#I would like a tree planted in my ashes please

[wonderlandwalker]

Remember | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: The capitol has taken you from him, but he won't let them keep you. You can find pt. 2 here!

Content Warnings/Tags: Violence, bullet wounds, major character injury, blood, needles, angst, fluff, no use of y/n

Word Count: 4.0k

Requested by Anon: omg I love your writing and I have an unhealthy addiction to reading angst so could you please write something about the reader being with peeta and Johanna when they where taken by the capital and her being with finnick and recovering while she’s in district 13? 🫶🫶

A/N: The way I smiled when I saw this request I swear. This one has been in the works for a little while and I thought it fit perfectly. It is angst you ask for and it is angst you shall get. I'm considering writing a part two but I'm not sure how to yet. My bad habit of not proofreading happened again and with this one especially it was way too long so if I made any major errors pls do let me know.

The Capitol.

You are currently in the Capitol.

At least that’s where you think you are. You remember being in the arena, you remember running towards the general direction you last saw Finnick, remembering the marks you had gone by in case you had to take a different route. You remember seeing Finnick's face through the plantation, you’d be able to recall those features anywhere. You remember something hitting you from behind and falling to the ground, too caught up in catching up with him to check your surroundings. You remember crying out in pain, hoping he’d hear you. But the next thing you remember is the vision of him slowly going out of focus and losing consciousness not long after. 

At least that's what you think happened.

At least you can still remember, that’s worth something right? You remember your past, and you remember the reaping that led to the arena. The flood of relief that went over you as you finally found your way back to him. You don’t know what happened to Finnick, he was there too after all, but you had needed to split up early. Maybe he had been caught off guard too. Maybe he escaped. Maybe they never even found him. Maybe with him being the idiot he could be, he was probably already on his way here, looking for you. Just like you would have done for him, and he would have called you an idiot then too.

You would get out of here one way or another, that much you knew, but you needed to remember more, you needed to remember the last look on his face, you hadn't had much time to take it in, but you remembered the furrow of his eyebrows, the same expression he always had when he was trying to concentrate, you needed to remember that.

You knew that once you did get out of here, Finnick would be furious, telling you that you had been reckless, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, shortly after telling you how worried he had been. And it would feel like coming home.

Your mind becomes hazier, and it is harder to remember. You feel your head throbbing, and you move your hand towards it until you feel it can move no further. You open your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light that covers the room. You can't see much, can't move your head much.

You remember the rendezvous point you had talked about. You remember the quick “don't get yourself in trouble” and the kiss he gave you right before you parted ways.

You remember the layers of plants and trees you moved through, seeing some of them cut down, letting you know someone else had been there

But you know there is more, more that you missed. The stomped-out ashes that you ran past, you know you should have paid closer attention. But you can’t remember

You need to remember what happened. How you got here. Who got you here. If you really are in the capitol. But your mind doesn't want to cooperate anymore. The room is getting darker and darker, even though the lamp above your head is still dutifully buzzing

You wake up, you still remember where you are, or at least where you think you are. You still remember yesterday, was it yesterday? Why couldn't they just hang a clock in here? 

You look up, and you see a device set up, not too far from where you're lying down. You try to get a better look but the light above your head is too blinding to see anything else in the room. You don’t fully understand it until a man walks into the room with a video camera in his hand and an expression on his face that seems just a tad too happy. 

The camera starts blinking a red light, signalling you that it has started recording. The man has a sort of laser that he presses into your lower stomach, it doesn't breach your skin but it hurts like it does. It takes all your energy not to show him the satisfaction of it.

“Come on now darling, work with me a little.” He says after a while, changing the setting on the laser. The last bit of your energy is gone, and you can't keep the screaming from escaping any longer. It echoes off the white walls around you and when you hear yourself, you barely even recognize it. He seems satisfied with the result and finally puts the laser down. You look down but don't see any burn marks or indication of what has just happened.

He comes closer and you can see he is holding a sort of crowbar, but you're not sure why. You remember how you always left one outside your window in the districts, in case the wind had shut it and you needed to sneak back in. You remember Finnick finding out, giving you a serious, disappointed look, but not telling you to stop.

Before you can think of anything else, the bar hits you with full force, right above the spot he was previously focused on. You didn't expect it, and it knocks the little breath you had left out of your lungs. He hits again, not in the same spot, but close, he is very clearly aiming for your ribs. The switching between high-tech and old-school weapons has you puzzled, but you can't deny the result either of them has.

After a while, he stops, and with the added difficulty and pain that now comes with breathing, you are more than certain he just bruised a few of your ribs.

He walks back, taking the camera in his hands. He aims it at your face and you close your eyes to try and collect yourself as much as your current state allows. Your hair is a tangled mess and you are rather certain there is blood smushed over your face from the cuts you got in the arena. 

“Smile for the camera sweetheart.” He asks, even though it sounds more like an order than a request. You open your eyes to look at him. He is so close, and you want to drive your thumbs so far into his eye sockets you can feel the front lobe of his brain, if he even has one. But you can't do anything, no matter how much you want to fight, you are powerless here. You close your eyes again, trying to block everything out and remember.

You remember District Four, the way the light summer breeze would always carry the smell of the beach to your house, no matter how hard you had it, it always livened you up. You remember the first time Finnick tried to teach you how to surf, being so gentle with you no matter how many times you fell off it, always there to catch you again. You remember your last birthday, well, the day after, but you couldn't even complain about that. He had picked you up from your place and brought you to one of the lakes with him. He told you the story of one of his birthdays when he was younger, along with all the embarrassing details, but of course, it only endeared him further to you. You told him about the presents you got and all the people who came to wish you a happy birthday. You told him everything you could remember. You remember last seeing his face, maybe it was the last time you will have ever seen it. No. No, you remember it, but you’ll see it again, you have to.

“I’ll make sure your loverboy gets to see this, wherever he is, wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun.” 

Finn. Finnick. You remember Finnick. You remember when you returned from your first games. The black eye and broken arm you came home with. You remember how he lost it when they didn't immediately treat you for it. He would now either throw a fit over it for everyone to see or be so stoic in his thoughts even Johanna would get a little concerned.

You see the man standing up, walking to the table, and picking up something new. A syringe, it's a syringe. He walks over and pushes it into your upper arm, and before you know it, your vision turns black again.

You remember waking up to gunshots, and you panic. But after a few seconds, you figure out they’re not near you. There is, however, someone in the room with you, it's the same man again. He looks a little panicked, but you can’t figure out why just yet. The gunshots are becoming louder, and closer, and he seems more startled now. His arms drop to his sides from what he was doing and his eyes widen. Screams are echoing and you can hear footsteps.

You remember that pattern of paddling feet, and you recognize the second pair of steps too, but you can't remember much else.

The man gets closer to you, placing his hand over your mouth, pulling out a gun with his free hand and telling you to stay quiet. You never understood why people say that, it means he has something to lose, and you want to scream out, but your voice doesn't remember how to.

It's even closer now, right outside the door, and you can hear talking. You remember his voice. How he always asked you so sweetly how your day had been, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep. 

You hear the door jiggle, and it makes you want to scream out for him, but your sore throat won't let you. For a moment you think that is it, you had your chance, and you let it go by. He’ll move along the hallway to the other doors and leave you here. But then you hear another gunshot, and they must have shot the lock, because right after you hear someone running into the door with an echoing thump as it breaks open. 

The man next to you had his gun pointed at the door, and he changes it to point at you instead. 

You were right, by the gods you had never been so thankful to have been right. Finnick walks in, and you can see the colour drain from his face as he does so. 

The man standing next to you is starting to get nervous, you can see the sweat starting to drip down his face. He must realize he has been matched, because there are more people by Finnicks side. But the man still has his gun pointed at you, and this isn't over just yet.

You can't keep your eyes open anymore, and when you close them, you remember. You remember your first kiss with Finnick, how nervous he had been at the time. He had been shaking a little and told you he was embarrassed by how much you got to him, but it only endeared him further to you.  He yells at the man to let go of the gun, he sounds nervous again.

But he doesn't let go, he decides to shoot. 

You hear the bullet leaving the gun, and for a single moment, you think it's over. The last thing you’ll ever see is Finnick, but he’s not himself. He’s upset, and even though you know he’s not upset with you, it still tugs at you. Except when you feel the bullet piercing through your skin, that's exactly what you realise. You can still feel it. He didn't shoot you right in the heart, he didn't shoot towards your head, he shot you in the abdomen. You’re not sure why, not sure why he didn't kill you, but you will never know, because not even a second passes as you hear a second gunshot, and he falls to the floor.

You can't seem to remember how to open your eyes, but you can hear Finnick rushing over and right as he reaches you, you fall. You fall into his arms and the memory of it gives you hope. Something comes in contact with your stomach, and the agony of it makes you want to scream out. You can feel him lifting you, and the shift of your body makes the bullet move, making you want to scream again. And if you remembered how to, you would have.

You know he’s talking to someone, but it sounds more like buzzing to you. You can only make out certain parts of the conversation, something about needing to leave, something about infections, and something about an aircraft. 

You can hear him talking again, and this time it’s directed at you. There’s a strain in his voice, and it sounds like he’s crying. It makes you want to comfort him, but you don’t remember how to.

“Please darling, just open your eyes."

But you’re afraid, youre afraid that if you open them, everything will turn out to be nothing but a dream, and he won’t be here anymore. But even if this is a dream, you need to see him. Even if it will turn into a haunted memory, you need to see his eyes looking back at you. It takes you some effort, but you open your eyes, looking at him. You can see tears flooding his face, you can see his lips moving, silent pleas coming from them for you to stay awake. He’s telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he's telling you to hold on. He promises that he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again and that he won’t let go of you anymore.

You remember how he cried when you were reaped for the 75th games, and how you had told him everything would be okay, how you had comforted him, but you don't have the energy to comfort him this time. You remember hearing his sobbing, his shaking voice when you close your eyes again, not being able to keep them open any longer, even if you wanted to.

You wake up again, and for a moment you think it had indeed all been a dream, that you were right back where you had started, But then you remember the bullet in your stomach. You look down and see a bandage over it, even though it’s already soaked in blood. They must have taken it out. 

You try and concentrate, and you can hear Finnick talking to someone. “Just tell me, I know it’s bad but I need to know.” “Finnick, it won’t make a difference.” The person he’s talking to sounds desperate, and you remember how stubborn he could be when it came to you. 

But you don’t remember more, because your head starts to feel light again and you give in to the feeling.

When you wake up again, you manage to open your eyes, and you can see someone sitting in a chair next to the bed you're in. He’s slumped over, his face half pressed into the mattress and half into your stomach, both of his hands are holding onto one of yours. It hurts a little, but you don't mind, because it reminds you, even when you look away, that he is still there. You remember the way he always softly snores, and the way he wiggles his nose when your hair falls over it.

You think you're connected to a monitor, because something is beeping in the same rhythm you can feel your heart beating, and it gives you a headache. So you close your eyes again, and once again, you give in to the feeling of sleep that looms over you.

Since you had been brought to District 13, he has barely left your side. He keeps putting cold washcloths on your forehead to try and break your fever. It won't help, and he knows it, but no one has the heart to stop him. 

You haven't shown a single sign of life since they had found you. It was unsettling, the silence that filled the room, none of your usual laughter and banter there to replace it. 

It’s only when Finnick's head shoots up that the others notice it as well. The steady beeping that has been imposing the silence in this room for weeks picking up its pace. The beating continues to go faster and faster, your body shaking up from the bed in almost the same rhythm. But right before anyone can do anything about it, it stops. It all seems to stop, you stop moving, and the monitor stops beating.

He starts giving you chest compressions, and someone rushes into the room holding a small bottle, they fill a syringe with the clear liquid and inject it into your arm. Within a few seconds, your heart starts beating again. But it’s only after a minute of the monitor showing him a steady heartrate that he stops his actions.

It’s dark in the room when Finnick wakes up, and if it wasn't for the soft light and the beeping of the monitor, he would've thought he was dreaming, but it seems the reality won’t let him escape. He struggles not to fall back asleep, and every few minutes he does, but every time he wakes up startled again, scared that you’ll be gone if he doesn't open his eyes every once in a while. It was easy to see the toll it had taken on him. His posture was slouched, his face less well-groomed than usual. But no one could blame him, because they could see the way he looked at you, as if you were the sun and your dimmed light turned his world dark. 

He knows the chance you can hear him is small, but he feels the urge to talk to you nonetheless. 

“I don't think I can hold this in any longer. I remember some studies that have shown people in comas do hear what's going on around them, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t, because you would never say yes.”

He continues but he feels his voice choke up, and he runs a hand through your hair to calm himself down, his other hand still holding onto yours.

“We talked about it once, I still remember every single word you said. You came at me with all your logical reasons for why it would be a bad idea. But what you never understood is that when it comes to you, I'm not able to think rationally, because my love for you will overpower anything else.” He chuckles softly as he recalls the memory he’s about to tell you next.

“I remember when I opened up to you for the first time. I had always held things to myself, but you were so calm as I talked to you. I thought for sure I had screwed it up somehow then. Everyone always tells me now how happy you make me, and they're right. Ever since you came into my life there has not been a single moment when the thought of you did not bring me joy, even when we fought my memories of you could still somehow bring a smile to my face. 

I remember when they showed me the video, they hadn't wanted me to see it, but you know how stubborn I can be when it comes to you. I saw you, I saw the way in which they were hurting you. And I started yelling, ironically enough in that moment, you were the only one that could have calmed me down. I remember yelling at them, fighting with them not to wait any longer, that they couldn't let you wait any longer, they had to have me sedating until they came to a conclusion."

He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, taking a small ring. It was his mother's ring, he had found it a while back and had carried it with him ever since. He had thought of moments to give it to you, but every time there was one, every time he was about to ask you, something had happened, something had interrupted him. But there was no one interrupting him this time. “I have thought about asking you this every time I see you, and I can't hold it in any longer. So when you wake up, not if you wake up, because I know you will. I know you will wake up because you have to. So when you wake up, will you marry me.” A little part of him had thought you'd wake up, that you’d answer him. Even if you said no, it would still be better than what's happening right now, because he didn't care if you'd say no, if you’d say you weren't ready, because nothing could be worse than the silence that followed him. And so he slid the ring onto your finger delicately, as if you were to disappear if he wasn't careful. He put the ring on your hand because he knew that even if it wasn't today, and it wasn't tomorrow, someday you would marry him, and he wouldn't let you slip away.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, sleep deprivation and desperation playing a trick on his mind. But then he saw it again, in the beams of morning light he could see your hand moving, as if it was trying to grasp onto something, trying to pull you back into this world. It woke him up in an instant. But it was all followed so fast, the way your eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. Before you had even awoken for a second, he moved from where he had been right beside you in order to hug you. And he was about to get lost in the thought of your moving lips, tears falling down his eyes, about to get lost in a kiss full of built-up pain and desperation when he noticed, something was wrong. Your eyebrows were knitted together and the corners of your mouth turned down just a little. He looked at your expression, your body language, something was wrong. You looked vulnerable, you looked like you wanted to protect yourself from someone.

It was only when he looked into your eyes that he truly understood something was very wrong.

Your eyes looked as if you were in pain, but it wasn't a look of any physical pain, it looked as if something was endangering you, but he couldn't understand what it was. He slowly moved so as not to startle you and asked you “Darling, what’s wrong” And at first you didn’t respond, but when he kept looking at you, expecting him to answer you, you started to speak. “Am I supposed to remember you?” 

He immediately flinched back at the statement, his shoulder sunk and his eyes dimmed. Someone told him it wasn't uncommon for brain injuries to cause short-term memory loss after a coma.

So slowly, and surely, he made it work. But it was crumbling him down every time you didn't remember the unconscious acts of affection, so foreign to you now. A quick touch on your arm as he walked towards you made you flinch slightly as if his hand had been on fire. The subtle smiles he gave you when entering a room were now met with you looking down. The way that even though you were physically here, you really weren't. 

He promised himself, he vowed to himself that he would make you remember. That no matter how long it took, he would wait for you. He would wait for you to remember, make you remember. Because he had very quickly learned that he couldn’t live without you anymore.

Part 2: Trying to Forget

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fic #finnick odair fanfic #angst #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #finnick #finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick fanfic #hunger games finnick #the hunger games finnick #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #thg series #hunger games fic #the hunger games fluff #the hunger games angst #the hunger games #hunger games

[slightecho]

Goldenrod and Aster

commission by the lovely and amazing @turquoisespace35 of a very familiar scene from my Owl House fic, Ashes!!

Then, the clearing in the trees came into full view, and Willow let out a soft gasp. The sun shone through in bright rays, lighting up everything in a warm golden yellow. No leaves touched the ground here. Instead, the clearing was filled in a blanket of yellow, purples and green! The brushing she’d felt along her legs had been lush spikes of yellow flowers, strong and healthy as she passed by them. And where there were gaps amongst the fluffy-looking tufts of yellow, bunches of small, purple flowers like starbursts grew in between. “Goldenrod,” she giggled, reaching out to lightly touch a dusty branch. As she eased forward into the clearing, she was careful not to step on any big stems. Her fingertips drifted easily to the purple next, and she crouched down with a smile on her face. “And Aster…” These were often mistaken for daisies in her dad’s shop. It was getting more common to see these two plants growing together in the wild—their colors contrasted, and that meant they would attract different pollinators. Because of this, growing together would give them each benefit from the pollinators from the other. A whole new set of ones they would have never attracted on their own. They were able to grow more flowers together, than apart, that way. A wonderfully symbiotic relationship. Willow smiled up at Hunter, and snickered. “I’m guessing you probably also found all the major beehives on this side of Gravesfield, but don’t look for them now,” she remarked. The bees were likely starting to go dormant with the days growing colder. It was best not to disturb them. Hunter blanched, his eyes going wide and his proud grin falling from his face. “Wait, what?”

Working with @turquoisespace35 on this commission was an absolute pleasure! I’ve been such a fan of her work for a long time and I knew if I ever commissioned a Huntlow piece from Ashes, it would have to be from her! Thank you again, Turquoise!!

I can’t believe how perfectly she captured the vibe and the ambience of the scene without ever having read a single word of Ashes, just my own TL;DR description of the scene. 🥰

If anyone’s looking to commission Huntlow artwork, please check @turquoisespace35 out!

If you’re interested in checking out Ashes, you can do so here:

#toh ashes au #the owl house #toh #the owl house fanfiction #toh au #toh fanfic #toh hunter #toh willow #huntlow #huntlow art #willow park #hunter wittebane #hunter clawthorne #hunter toh #hunter noceda #fanfic art #commission

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

What Is and Isn't a Fish: an Essay and Guide by Fishyfishyfishtimes

A simplified list of the animals I discuss can be found here!

Hello folks! I created this post to have a kind of definitive essay/explanation of what is and isn't a "fish", starting with defining the term and going over animals that fit and don't fit the bill. As other fishblr artists, writers and educators must know too well, some people are confused about where this term begins and ends, mistaking other aquatic animals for fish. I have my fair share of arthropods and cnidarians as fish fact requests in my own askbox, heck, some years back a friend of mine asked me if clams were fish. The event that finally made me decide to write this was someone requesting that a fish-only account draw a crustacean, pondering to themselves if they count as fish.

I don't want to hold it against these people. It's impossible to know something when you've never been taught! So that's what I'm here to do, hopefully achieving a pretty correct and universal view ^^' If I make any mistakes please correct me. I'm learning all the same as everyone else is.

Definition of fish

Immediately, we run into a bit of a problem with the definition of fish. See, what the term "fish" means has fluctuated for centuries! For a long time, pretty much any animal that lived in water was a "fish" — I say "pretty much any" instead of "every" animal because for a long time sessile animals like sponges or corals were thought to be plants. This is why we have such remnants in our language like shellFISH, starFISH and jellyFISH, they lived in water so they were called such!

Occasionally these definitions would be changed for cultural convenience too. Many Christian churches take part in Lent, and in the Catholic church red and white meat is forbidden on Fridays and Ash Wednesday. In the Middle Ages, in my own country, Finland, this abstinence of red and white meat could last up to 140 days! To make fasting easier, many animals were labelled fish for convenience so they could be eaten as well. These newfound "fish" included seals, beavers and swans, pretty much just anything that was aquatic or semiaquatic in nature.

Nowadays just going off of looks or behaviour won't do, though. There has been much more of an effort to define fishes coherently based on their anatomy and phylogeny, which is great! Problem is, that's easier said than done: fishes are an extremely diverse group, and uh.. not really a single group, either. I'll show you:

As you can see from this heavily simplified phylogenic tree, fishes are not a singular group like, say, mammals are! The animals that we group under "fish" are actually a part of several distinct lineages of animals, some more closely related to us than each other. Heck, tetrapods, which include amphibians, reptiles*, and mammals, are fish themselves! Phylogenetically speaking. Our ancestors were lobe-finned fish, and, well, you never stop being the previous taxon even when you evolve into something else. If you try to exclude tetrapods, no such unified group as "fish" exists. Still, when discussing fish, we tend to want to avoid talking about every vertebrate ever and instead focus on the very specific aquatic ones we mean when we say "fish". This is why many definitions of the term "fish" still exclude tetrapods, even if we share a common fishy ancestor. "Fish" describes more of a lifeform than it does a clade, much like the term "worm"!

(*birds are reptiles! This could be a whole post in and of itself, but I'm not here to write about that. Someone else has most likely taken up the task!)

Hooray, it's definition time! As stated previously, fishes are an extremely diverse group of thousands of species, and what terms might apply to the Atlantic cod may not apply to the yellowfin tuna or giant mudskipper, let alone a Pacific lamprey! Encyclopedia.com defines a fish as "an ectothermic chordate that lives primarily in water and possesses a cranium*, gills that are useful virtually throughout life, and appendages (if present) in the form of fins". Encyclopedia Britannica notes that "the term fish is applied to a variety of vertebrates of several evolutionary lines", instead highlighting five classes. These five classes are left partly unspecified, but ones that are mentioned are jawless fish, cartilaginous fish and bony fish (which still includes tetrapods, however), and the two classes left can be assumed to be two classes of extinct fish. Wikipedia defines a fish as "an aquatic, craniate**, gill-bearing animal that lacks limbs with digits". Tim M. Berra, an academy professor and ichtyologist, defines fish as "poikilothermic***, aquatic chordate with appendages (when present) developed as fins, whose chief respiratory organs are gills and whose body is usually covered with scales".

(*cranium=upper part of the skull **craniate=an animal with a skull ***poikilothermic=an animal whose internal temperature varies considerably)

From these more or less detailed definitions we can gather many defining features for fish: a cranium-having chordate, primarily aquatic, gill-bearing and uses gills as their main respiratory organ, lacking any limbs with digits, instead having their limbs be in paired and unpaired fins when present. Most fish are also ectothermic, meaning their body temperature is determined by their environment, but some can heat up parts of their body or their entire body in the case of the opah. Most fish also have scales, but not all, just like how most fish are fully aquatic, but some like lungfish or mudskippers can spend considerable time out of the water. Such is the way of these magnificent and diverse animals!

Finally, with all this out of the way, we can get into...

What is a fish!

Here, I will be detailing animals that are fish! Well, at least the broadest strokes; there are more than 30 000 fish species and if I listed them all we'd be here all life. I shall instead go over the major classes and list, in short, some groups that belong in them.

Jawless fish (Superclass Cyclostomi)

Jawless fish are often a topic of debate, especially in matters of their relation to each other and to jawed vertebrates. Evidence seems to point to hagfish and lampreys being closest related to one another and to lampreys being more closely related to jawed vertebrates than to hagfish (which would make hagfish craniates but not vertebrates). In the phylogeny tree above I decided to portray hagfish and lampreys as a monophyletic group, as molecular studies and microRNA analysis seems to point to a monophylegic superclass. Please note that this could go either way, though.

Jawless fish is a group containing two extant fishes, hagfish (class Myxini) and lampreys (order Petromyzontiformes)! Jawless fish are more "primitive" than other groups, for example both lack true vertebrae and scales. Still, they both have craniums and gills and they are aquatic, and so they have earned their place among fish!

Cartilaginous fish (class Chondrichthyes)

Surprisingly, I've found that this group has a lot of confusion surrounding it. I have received many a request confirming if sharks are fish, or asking if I'd cover a shark "even if it's not a fish". So I'll say it now: good news, sharks are indeed fish! So are their cousins, rays, skates and chimaeras, also known as ghost sharks! All of these fish have a primarily cartilaginous skeleton, tooth-like dermal denticles and lack gill covers and a swim bladder. Out of all the sharks, I also want to highlight that the whale shark, despite its confusing name, is a shark and not a whale. So, it is a fish!

Ray-finned fish (class Actinopterygii)

Name any fish, and there's a 96% chance the species name you said belongs to a ray-finned fish. Unless, like, you really like sharks. But this isn't about them.

Ray-finned fish are the biggest group of fish and incredibly diverse! It has your seahorse, your pufferfish, your bass, your tuna, your anglerfish, your clownfish, your salmon, your sturgeon, your lanternfish, your perch, your oarfish, your gar, your sardine, your moray eel... and this is only a tiny, tiny fraction of the groups that belong to this class! Defining features of ray-finned fish are that they tend to have a swim bladder and a bony skeleton (some exceptions though. Sturgeons, for one, have evolved a cartilaginous skeleton but they're still ray-finned fish). The largest group of ray-fins, the teleosts, also have leptoid scales, which are thinner and more flexible and grow with growth rings.

I want to bring special attention to some members of the ray-finned fish which tend to have a lot of confusion surrounding them and their heritage: eels and seahorses. Many people think these two are not fish due to their strange anatomy, like lack of scales or (many) fins and their elongated bodies, and I wouldn't blame them! Seahorses belong to family Syngnathidae, which also includes seadragons and pipefish. Eels, meanwhile, make up the order Anguilliformes. All of these long friends of ours are fish!

Lobe-finned fish (clade Sarcopterygii)

I shall merely focus on the fishy fishy fish individuals of this class, which excludes tetrapods. Lobe-finned fish house the two extant species of coelacanths, and six extant species of lungfish! These fish are bony and their fins are placed at the tips of fleshy, lobelike stalks, resembling the limbs of tetrapods. It is thought that the common ancestor of coelacanths and lungfish and tetrapods had similar structures that then became the four limbs the members of our clade typically have. Coelacanths and lungfish are wonderful fishes and deserve a lot of love and respect, not only because they're our closest cousins but because they're unique and we have so much to learn about them!

So, these are the fishes! There are also extinct groups of fish, namely class Placodermi (armoured fish) and class Acanthodii (spiny "sharks"). I'm moreso an extant fish account however, and so I shall move onto...

What isn't a fish?

Now we get into the real meat of this post. Without further ado, here are some aquatic friends of ours that can be mixed up with fish very often!

Crustaceans (subphylum Crustacea)

Many of our hard-shelled many-legged friends belong here! Crabs, lobsters, crayfish, shrimp, krill, isopods, triops, barnacles, copepods, you name it! Even though many crustaceans are aquatic or semiaquatic and have gills, you'll find that they're invertebrates that lack an internal skeleton (so no cranium, not even vertebrae)! We still love them though!

Mollusks (phylum Mollusca)

Creatures both soft and hard-shelled! Cephalopods like octopuses, squid, nautilus and cuttlefish, bivalves like clams, mussels, oysters or scallops, gastropods like sea slugs and snails and chitons go here! These friends of ours are also aquatic and have gills, some even have the suffix -fish (cephalopods used to be called inkfish, even!), but their lack of an endoskeleton is even more obvious than the crustaceans'. They're invertebrates, and therefore not fish!

Chelicerates (subphylum Chelicerata)

This group has many animals that are very hard to mistake for fish, namely spiders and scorpions, but horseshoe crabs and sea spiders are two groups of extant marine chelicerates! Both groups are aquatic, and horseshoe crabs have gills. However, they're both invertebrates, lacking a cranium or vertebrae. Other aquatic chelicerates exist, but they're usually very small, like water mites.

Cnidarians (phylum Cnidaria)

This phylum has the sessile corals and sea anemones and the usually more mobile jellyfish and siphonophores (includes the infamous Portugese man o' war!). I imagine corals and sea anemones are mistaken for fish less due to their sessile nature, but they're good to bring up nevertheless. None of these animals have a backbone, or, any bones really. They lack gills, they lack fins, they even lack the bilateral shape of fish. Jellyfish, despite the name, are indeed not fish! Some people suggest the name sea jellies be used for them instead, and I think it's much cuter.

Echinoderms (phylum Echinodermata)

Animals like starfish, sea urchins, brittle stars, sand dollars, sea cucumbers and feather stars go here. It seems that this pesky "-fish" -suffix is hard to shake off, as now we have the starfish. Once again, all of these slow-moving bottom-dwelling friends of ours are invertebrates, as they lack vertebrae or a cranium. Interestingly though, they are among our closest invertebrate relatives! So we ought to give them some props for that. I also want to mention that starfish can also be called sea stars, which ought to lessen confusion about their being too.

Comb jellies (phylum Ctenophora)

Comb jellies look a lot like jellyfish, but they belong in their own unique phylum! They have the same deal going on; they are invertebrates, they lack gills, they lack a cranium, they are simply aquatic.

Lancelets (subphylum Cephalocordata) and tunicates (subphylum Tunicata)

A double feature, because I wanted to save space didn't want these guys to be all alone! Lancelets and Tunicates, like sea squirts and salps, are chordates, which you can find in the phylogenic tree I drew all the way in the definitions section. They share many a feature with vertebrates, like a bilateral bodyplan, a notochord at some stage of life and a post-anal tail, but I'm afraid they're still not fish. They lack a cranium and their notochord does not develop into a vertebral column! Sorry friends, you tried. We can still hang out at the chordate convention.

Annelids (phylum Annelida)

The infamous bobbit worm, bone-eating worms, sea mice, giant tube worms, feather duster worms, spoon worms, bristleworms in general, leeches... many, many worms go here! Pretty self-explanatory: they are invertebrates, even when they live in water. They're extremely cool invertebrates too! I suggest taking a look at some of them, there's many interesting species.

Flatworms (phylum Platyhelminthes)

Flatworms are another very diverse group of worms, having many species both terrestrial and aquatic, however mostly I want to put attention into the free-swimming marine flatworms. They may swim beautifully (and fence with grace), but they are nevertheless invertebrates! Flatworms can live a variety of different lifestyles, from predators to parasites.

Amphibians (class Amphibia)

We've made it into vertebrates now! Amphibians include frogs, salamanders, and caecilians. While they have limbs with digits in their adulthood*, they can be easily confused for fish in their larval stages! This is no surprise, as they use gills to breathe underwater and tadpoles lack any limbs at all for a while. Many amphibians later transition into a terrestrial or semiaquatic way of life and lose their gills, not to mention gain their digit-having limbs.

(*excluding caecilians)

...Well, many amphibians do this, but not all. It's important to mention there are also species of aquatic salamanders which can bear great resemblance to fish with their elongated bodies! Amphiumas, which are sometimes mistakenly called "conger eels" (which is an actual species of fish), are aquatic salamanders with small residual limbs and both working gills and lungs. Giant salamanders and mudpuppies/waterdogs have lungs and gills as well, and lead an aquatic lifestyle — olms are close relatives of mudpuppies. Sirens, meanwhile, lack hind limbs and only have small front limbs, along with retaining their gills in adulthood. Among aquatic salamanders I also want to bring up one most often talked about species: the axolotl! They remain in their larval form, have external gills and lead an aquatic lifestyle. It can be hard to tell with aquatic salamanders sometimes, but these friends of ours are amphibians and not fish, even if they've rejected the land life.

Caecilians are a bit less known overall, but they can also cause a lot of confusion due to their long, limbless body. While most caecilians live underground, some are aquatic in nature, and can therefore be mistaken for fish! However, caecilians breathe via the use of their lungs and through the skin and don't have any gills at all.

Reptiles (class Reptilia)

Most commonly mistaken for fish in this group are sea snakes, sea kraits and water snakes, sea turtles, turtles, penguins, and other (semi)aquatic birds. Sea snakes and water snakes bear a very strong resemblance to eels, but they are indeed just snakes adapted to an aquatic or a semiaquatic lifestyle! The same goes for sea turtles, turtles overall, and penguins. They all need to breathe air and they lack fins, even if their flippers, webbed feet and built-in paddles may look like fins! They also have wholly different types of scales (or feathers!!) than what fish have, even if they share the feature. I assume that other aquatic reptiles, like the marine iguana and crocodilians are better read as reptiles thanks to their limbs with digits, but I want to give them a reptile shoutout anyway. They’re aquatic or semiaquatic, but they are air-breathers and fin-lackers all the same!

I also want to mention one specific extinct group of reptiles, ichtyosaurs! These marine reptiles were rather shark- or dolphin-like in appearance, which is actually a really good example of convergent evolution! Like all other reptiles, they also needed to breathe air and they had... erm... well, I'm not sure if I can call the bones in their flippers digits, but, that's what they used to be, so...? They were cool reptiles and among my favourites! There were many other aquatic reptiles too, but I will only mention just the ones now. A paleontology account would be better-suited to list you allll the marine reptiles.

Mammals (class Mammalia)

Our home class! Some of the aquatic friends we have in this class include whales like baleen and beaked whales, dolphins (orcas go here), porpoises, belugas, narwhals and sperm whales, pinnipeds like seals, sea lions, walruses, and sirenians like manatees, (occasionally known as sea cows) and dugongs! We also have some semiaquatic buddies like hippopotamids, otters, beavers and platypuses! Whales and pinnipeds especially often cause a lot of confusion due to their very streamlined, fishy appearance. They are, however, air breathers that feed their young with milk (some dolphin calves are even born with some hair), and their ancestors were land mammals! The same goes for pinnipeds and sirenians too. True seals, fur seals and sea lions still have fur even! Hippos, otters, beavers and platypuses are a bit more obvious as mammals with their fur and.. distinct air-breathing.. but I wanted to mention them anyway. Their adaptations to aquatic life are just one example of how fascinating evolution can be!

And here we are! A hopefully comprehensive list of fishes and non-fishes, beginning with the ever-shifting story of the term "fish", phylogeny, and why some animals are called fish when they really aren't. I hope you have found useful and interesting information in this post, and perhaps learned something new! I bid you a farewell! :D

#fish guide #fish essay #fish #fish facts #fishfact #marine biology #biology #zoology #long post #jawless fish #cartilaginous fish #ray-finned fish #lobe-finned fish

[novaonhere]

The Mechanic

Relationship: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Summary: Cal can't just be telling everyone he's a Jedi, no matter how cute they are. So apparently he's a mechanic? After a wonderful walk of getting to know each other, the cat’s out of the bag.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Creepy men, but you're saved!

A/N: Been playing too much stardew, but is that a bad thing?

Prompt: Did you ever tell me the truth, or were they all lies?

(gif not mine)

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You were tending to your farm, admiring the rising sun off on the horizon. Even though Koboh did have some very unpleasant places, your family found this small patch away from people, and most importantly, the Empire. So far you haven’t come into contact with any, you’ve only heard stories that your father would tell you while you tended the fields together.

That was over a year ago; the day he passed away. You were able to sprinkle his ashes by the tree he planted for you as a baby. But, the farm must prosper. You’ve decided to help out the struggling townspeople by selling and trading with them every other sunset.

It was any other day as you walked into town. A big basket in your back, and two in each hand. The cantina in town was friendly to you and let you sell inside, especially during the hottest of days. The short fellow, Cheese? Grease? You felt bad for not remembering, always had lavish stories to share with anyone who would listen. Of course, you would sell your goods and just listen to him go on and on about the galaxy, just like your father used to do.

Suddenly, a tall man with bright red hair runs into the cantina. You only catch a glimpse of him, but time seemed to slow down. His hair was pushed back with him running, showing off his chiseled face and red stubble of a beard. He looked to be about your age. His arms are covered in freckles, his knuckles badly beaten. Maybe he's a handyman? Just as you got a good look, he was gone, running to the back. The bar owner noticed your interest in the man. He waddles up to you, waving a friendly gesture. You smile back.

"Hey, kid. Got some eyes for my kid?" He smirks, making your face heat up immediately.

"Oh, no, sir. This is the first time I've seen him." You respond, packing up the last of your goods in the smaller basket. He hums, nodding his head and looking to the backdoor.

"Well, I'm off. Thank you again for letting me stay here." You smile, sticking out your hand to shake. He smiles, shaking your hand. Then, the redhead comes back. His attention is on you, shaking his friend's hand.

"Ah! Cal, please meet (Y/N)." The bar owner gestures to the man. Cal, what a nice name. It just flows out of your mouth. Cal~

"Pleasure to meet you," He walks over, sticking out his hand. You shake it, feeling your neck heat up.

"The pleasure is all mine," You respond. "Unfortunately, I must go. The sun is setting and I don't want to run into unexpected company." Cal's eyebrows shoot up.

"The raiders? Please, let me walk you home." Cal offers. Your neck heatens up more.

"I live out in the country at the farm an hour away, I'll be okay, thank you." You shly say as you head for the door. As the door opens, you're met face to face with two raiders, coming in for a drink. You immediately step aside to let them in.

"Ah, pretty girl, do you need us to walk you home?" One of them giggles, wrapping his arm around you, leading you outside. Cal does not stand for that one bit, running out and up to you.

"Sir, I was just about to escort her. Thank you for the offer. Your drink can be on me, right Greez?" Cal calls back to the bar owner, who nods emphatically. The raiders only scoff and head inside. Shaken, you reach your free hand around Cal's arm, who's taken aback slightly.

"Thank you so much." You whisper as the door closes behind you. "I'd really appreciate a companion to head back." He nods, showing you a warm smile. You don't take your arm back, and he doesn't seem to mind. You make your way down the street and onto a worn dirt path towards your farm.

The walk back was fantastic. You learned so much about each other. You told him about your life, growing up on the planet that you could never leave, tending to your family's bountiful farm. He explained that he has been a mechanic for many ships, traveling around the galaxy and seeing what the universe had to offer. That's where all the scars are, showing you the ones on his face and arms. You asked all types of questions, curious as a cat. He was happy to answer and tell more stories. Even after you made it back to the farm, you gave a quick tour and offered him dinner, which he gladly accepted the invite.

You stood in front of your stove, cooking up a vegetable stew as Cal sat politely on a chair by the window. The only lights were from a few candles about and the one electrical bulb you had on the ceiling.

"Using an animal to fly and not a machine?" You exclaim, dumbfounded with the biggest grin on your face. "That sounds incredible. You have had such an interesting life as a mechanic. Maybe I need a career change." You smile, stirring the food. Cal chuckles, looking out the window.

"It seems quite peaceful here, with kind people around." Cal responds, taking a deep breath. "(Y/N) that smells amazing, thank you for cooking." You blush as you dish out some bowls.

"Of course, I'm happy to help. Thank you again for walking me back. Will you be okay to walk back in the dark?" You frown, pointing outside. The only light available was given by the moon and the stars above. Cal takes a big spoonful of sound, gasping with delight.

"Woah," He breathes out, taking another bite. You giggle at the man's response. You eat together, telling jokes and talking about the planet.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. You both raise an eyebrow, as you stand up to answer the door. Without another knock, the door is kicked in and a few raiders enter.

"Ah! So this is where the pretty lady resides." One exclaims, putting his hands on his hips. Cal stands up, pushing you behind him, holding around your waist.

"Can we help you this evening?" He calmly asks, a scowl still lingering on his face. They all chuckle.

"We're here for the lady, she's being asked to come with us for the night." The leader, you assume states, taking another step forward. "Unless, you want to settle this outside?" Cal turns to face you.

"Stay here, gather your valuables." He states to you. He turns to face the invaders. "All of you, outside with me." They laugh, walking outside and unsheathing their weapons. You're practically shaking, running about the house, grabbing your money, seeds, heirlooms, anything important to you.

"Cal?" You ask, shoving stuff into your cloth bag. He raises up his hand.

"I'll take care of it, and we may need to go back into town for safety." He walks outside. You close the door behind him, not wanting to know what happens. Can you trust the mechanic? He seems extremely strong, but you don't have time to worry. You place more things in your bag when a green light shines from behind you. Cautiously, you turn around, throwing your bag onto your shoulders.

You watch Cal strike down a raider, a glowing sword in his hands. What IS that? You try to recall some memories from your father, the stories he would tell you about the galaxy. There were people actively fighting against the Empire, Jedos? Jedas? What were they?

The door flings open, Cal's hair a mess and sticking to his face. The green glowing stick is no where to be seen. He extends out his hand, and you instantly take it. Before you could go anywhere, you pull him in for a hug. Taken aback, he gladly accepts, holding you tightly against his sweaty frame.

"Thank you," you whisper, still shaking slightly from the earlier events.

"Of course, (Y/N). Let's get you back to the cantina... I have some explaining to do." He starts to lead you two away, but you take a moment and turn to face your home. You can't help but feel overwhelmed, tears brimming your eyes. Cal places a hand to your lower back, attempting to comfort you.

"What do I do? I can't stay here..." You exclaim quietly, your lip quivering. Cal's eyebrows furrow, sighing.

"I don't think this is safe anymore, but I know Greez and I can help find a safe place for you. Think of it as the adventure you've always wanted." Cal releases his hand, extending it out to you. You nod, taking his hand into yours.

You both start down the path, having to squint and adjust your eyes to make sure you're still on the path. He reaches for something to his side, pulling out a metal stick. You raise an eyebrow.

"Please don't touch any part of the lightsaber, it can hurt." He explains, turning it on. The green stick! Or, a lightsaber apparently. You watch in amazement.

"You're a Jedi." You say blatantly, looking out to the illuminated path in front of you. "You help people." Cal smiles, urging you both forward.

The rest of the walk is him telling you the truth about him. All the while, you happily listen, clutching onto his bicep as you walk into the night.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis x you #cal kestis #cal kestis jedi survivor #jedi survivor #star wars #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi survivor #reader insert #y/n

[satorugojooo]

Can I ask an anemo vision holder and she has already lost a loved one and she doesn't want to lose al haitham also if you don't mind

A/n: ohhh yess I feel like this would turn out so niceee thank you for the request! I hope you will enjoy this and I hope that it will make your day better <3

Pairings: Al haitham x fem!reader

Warnings: sensitive themes? There will be mentioned losing a loved one so if it makes you uncomfortable please don't read it, also some speculations on what the archon quest may hold about Dottore and that tree from the trailer

You were currently searching for some informations about those devices that everyone owns. You knew that they were made to connect every citizen of Sumeru, and that because of them people couldn't dream at night, but these days something very weird was happening with these devices. It was as if someone tried to control them, the citizens were all very tense, they started arguing and Sumeru was in a huge chaos.

The traveler was working together with Lesser Lord Kusanali, Cyno and everyone else on finding out what happened, but you wanted to help as well.

"Hmm these devices are born from the Irminsul tree... Maybe something had happened to that tree? But I do not own a dendro vision, it would be hard to figure that out on my own... I think I'll contact Tighnari." you mumbled and you searched more informations.

All of a sudden the door burst open with a loud thud and you raised your head alarmed. Collei rushed in with a worried look.

"Y/N!" she yelled and ran to you as you stood up quickly.

"Collei, what's happening?" you said and tried to calm the girl down.

"I-... Had a vision these days about... A fatui but turns out that... He's actually, the Irminsul tree is on fire!" she said out of breath and you tried to catch what she was trying to say.

"What?? The tree is on fire?? But how did this happen, and the fatui? And someone went to the tree or?" you asked quickly and she nodded.

"Master Tighnari went these with the traveler, Al haitham and Nahida... I do not know what's happening but, I know wich fatui is there y/n... It's the one who did experiments on me... He's named Dottore." she said very worried and you looked at her shocked.

A harbinger?? And one of the most cruel ones for sure? And the traveler went to fight it with the others but Al haitham? Will he be alright? You both were in a relationship for some time but you were worried for him.

"We have to get there at once too, I'm sure we could help at least to capture that harbinger." you said seriously and Collei nodded.

"Okay! Dori is waiting for us outside together with Dehya and Nilou, everyone is worried for the fate of Sumeru right now." Collei said and you both rushed outside. After meeting with the other girls you all ran to the place where the tree used to be. You couldn't think straight anymore, memories flooded your mind, you remembered your best friend and how he died being killed by a Pyro regisvine. You both were small and you just found this huge plant in Liyue when your parents were on a business trip. Without having time to react, the plant attacked your best friend and not even ashes remained. You swore that you wouldn't let anyone else die that you cared for, and now your boyfriend was facing one of the most dangerous harbingers. You were terrified.

As you arrived at the tree you saw it burn very strongly. You looked around only to see that no harbinger was around but a lot of fatui were fighting with the guards and Al haitham, Cyno and Tighnari.

"Master Tighnari! Where is the traveler??" Collei asked as she threw her boomerang at the fatui agent.

The boys looked at you all and Tighnari answered while knocking off a Mirror maiden.

"They went to fight the harbinger with Nahida, Dottore tried to escape after he set the tree on fire but the traveler caught him."

"Al haitham are you alright??" you said as you used a wind current to blow the agents away from his back. As you raised your head you realized you were back to back with him and he smiled at you while slashing some fatui's.

"Don't you know what I'm capable of? Some fatui's can't just hurt me." he said and you smiled at him.

"Then let's show them just with who they messed this time." you said preparing your catalyst.

After knocking most of the enemies down Nilou started using her vision on the tree.

"This may be more complicated than I thought, this fire isn't the normal kind of one, that harbinger knew all too well what he was doing. Even if I save the tree, the devices connected to it won't be usable anymore..." she said and Tighnari nodded.

"Now the most important thing is to stop this fire, after we can figure something out." he said and she nodded. After many tries you managed to put down the fire and Al haitham came to you.

"How are you feeling? You didn't get hurt did you?" he asked and you nodded.

"I'm fine Haitham, as long as I know your safe I'm fine..." you said relieved and when you closed your eyes you felt yourself being pushed in a chest. You replied to the hug by putting your hands around Al haithams waist.

"You don't have to worry about me, you won't lose me... I know what happened to you in the past, but I will always stay by your side." he said in a soft tone and you hummed.

"Yes, I try to convince myself that you will be fine but when I heard a harbinger was involved I just... Lost rationality." you said and he rubbed your back.

"It's all okay now, everything will be fine." he said and you smiled as he kissed you softly on the lips.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #sumeru #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham drabble #al haitham fluff

[sangre]

OCS + Associations

tagged by my beloved @raphaelsboudoir thank you!

tagging: @the-lovely-lady-luck @reides @fluffy-snow-fox @interstices @kirkewrites @gerrykecy @killdragons @critrolesketch @cass1x1 @paleolithik @devilatelier @shapeknight @jabbakiller

going to complete this for my 3 active dnd characters, serisínthe, miré, and varin. to iron things out/illustrate their differences in my head in a fun way. these looked fun so please enjoy & i look forward to seeing any you guys do! :flushed:

Animal

Serisínthe: white tailed deer. antlers and eyes caught in headlights. frail/delicate/in death, a dressed up carcass Miré: portland sheep. huge curling horns, fluffy in every sense. social, curious, exploratory Varin: cottonmouth river snake! uhh you know serpents. coiled up and all. odd eyes. not typically aggressive unless provoked

Colors

Serisínthe: valentine's day palette... off-white, deep red pink Miré: foresty pale green, soft brown and lavender Varin: light charcoal, luminous blues and indigo purples

Month

Serisínthe: february! the shortest and least predictable month. it's got holiday chocolates in there. everything ends too soon but it's so cherished you know Miré: may! just after the showers of april, the grounds and grasses are wet against your boots and you're just kind of looking forward with the brisk air Varin: november. something weird and dreamlike about the crest before the end of the year, it's cold and kind of scary because something's almost over, but it's starting again.

Songs

Serisínthe: dying star – ashnikko, ethel cain I need somethin' soft, down feathers over rocks Miré: renee – sales All day long we looked to fall, looking into the sun and found a way to get along Varin: destroyer – ruby haunt Sweetheart, come undone, I'm handing you the dagger

Number

Serisínthe: 3 i think. Miré: 12 <- months in a year/cylical Varin: 8 <- haha ouroboros shape. 7 8 9 joke

Plants

Serisínthe: to say something other than a rose, pinkish red snapdragons. Miré: false deathcap mushroom! Varin: candle larkspur / guardian blue delphinium :)

Smells

Serisínthe: rosewater, white peach, coffee Miré: nutmeg, PETRICHOR, eucalyptus Varin: lychee, being near fresh rushing water, sandalwood

Gemstones

Serisínthe: moonstone... rose quartz, bixbite Miré: moss agate, rainbow fluorite Varin: chrysocolla!!! boulder opal

Time of Day

Serisínthe: the night sky, illuminated perfectly by stars. maybe like midnight Miré: early morning, like 7am, when you can't really see the sun but the sky is like white-blue, you can still smell the dew on the earth. Varin: like the very end of sunset, at like 6pm? right when the sky is like HEAVILY gradient with different colors dipping into each other.

Season

Serisínthe: autumn :3 the leaves are changing baby Miré: SPRINGGGGGGGGGG ITS SPRINGGGGG Varin: i feel like fall is a different answer than autumn so take that as you will.

Places

Serisínthe: behind the red curtains of a stage, in a dressing room doing his hair and putting paint on his lips, somewhere in a pile of his dearest friends, embraced. Miré: the floor of the detyrwood, in its deepest corners of lush green and whispering wingbeats. in the canopy of the trees or under the open sky, camping in an open field of wildflowers. Varin: in an abandoned apartment behind dilapidated wooden planks covered in ash, by the river's edge, hands washing off in the water. with his back to a wall covered and i do mean COVERED in bones, by stone pillars, eerie sterility and marble.

Foods

Serisínthe: i can't tell if this is asking what she would eat or what i associate her with. i think both? i'll try both. SO, STRONG flavors! like very spicy meats or coffee flavored deserts. seri can't taste very well so it's got to be intense. Miré: anything and everything but a forager at heart. nuts, berries, mushies, herbs, the best broth you've ever had in your life. like short ribs or something Varin: odds and ends, sort of scavenging. tough foods, dry things, cured meats. plain pastas, probably a huge noodle guy. might actually be obsessed with different shapes of noodles

Drinks

Serisínthe: peach daiquiri or a dessert wine with like notes of peach or berry Miré: ginger beer and lime, woodsy beers like a light/dry malt OR a sweet mead Varin: this weird cocktail called aviation, with gin, maraschino liqueur, creme de violette and lemon juice

Element

Serisínthe: air Miré: earth Varin: water

Seasoning

Serisínthe: garlic powder… cinnamon! CAYENNE Miré: basil. bay leaves.. cumin! Varin: ground ginger… nutmeg? smoked paprika?

Sky

Serisínthe: moonlit Miré: dawn Varin: sunset

Weather

Serisínthe: clear :3 maybe snowy Miré: rainnyyy!!! rainy rainy Varin: FOGGY!!!! SILENT HILL FOG

Magical Powers

Serisínthe: yeah she got those (cleric of song) Miré: it's a yes from he (spores druid, can reanimate) Varin: you bet at least 1 (don't look at me but he's out there)

Weapons

Serisínthe: a rose crystal casting focus scythe Miré: her big vine-covered staff Varin: a fucked up willowy axe like this where the hilt already lends itself to swinging with its curve

Candy

Serisínthe: rich dark chocolates, caramels, cherry chocolates, java sweets Miré: anything gummy. Gummies. The gummyies. sweet gummy bear Varin: peanut brittles, toffees, crunchy sweets or sours

Methods of Long-Distance Travel

Serisínthe: i just feel like if flight were feasible... an airship would be so cool for him Miré: HOOF IT!!!!! that said they're also capable of moving through trees within a certain distance of each other. Varin: (charon voice) get in the gondola. UM but yeah i don't know. train rides where you don't know where you're headed? (inception voice) how can it not matter where the train will take you!?!??!

Fear

Serisínthe: to be unable to help abate the suffering of his loved ones. Miré: to lose her home or endanger it inadvertently somehow. Varin: to die a tool and nothing more.

Mythological Creature

Serisínthe: maybe a fawn? a satyr? lol Miré: the golden fleece!!!! some kind of marsh forest fey sprite Varin: a sea serpent like you know just don't mind me and my yugioh card that i just dropped here okay

Piece of Stationary

Serisínthe: VERY thin delicate paper. sheet music paper with writing in the margins Miré: cute post it notes for reminders ;v; with little flower and mushroom decorations Varin: something that looks like watercolors were spilled on it. maybe a clean plain envelope with a wax seal

Three Emojis

Serisínthe: 🥀🌙🎭 Miré: 🍄🐏☘️ Varin: 🐍🧪🪓 i would use the pawn emoji but it doesn't show up right so axe i suppose

Celestial Body

Serisínthe: la luna. she did marry a bloodmoon once Miré: a constellation or a comet? something telling a story Varin: neptune! or maybe a black hole LMFAO

#serisínthe #miré #varin #oc posting. yahoo

[tiredly101]

The past can hurt part 3

Pairing: Wally Darling x Writer!Male reader

New Neighbor Masterlist

Illustrated Au, picture is not mine. Hey peeps, I want to apologize for taking so long to update since studies and work have been crazy these couple of months (?) but nonetheless a new part has come!

Memories flooded Wally's head as he looks up at Frank, Wally was mad and he felt violent which he had never experienced before.

"What the duck happened in 1974 Frank?” Wally asked again while poison slithered with each word, Frank looked down in shame before sighting.

"Home killed him Wally... Home killed M/n and made Barnaby forget about him" Frank said before starting to cough, with each cough Frank's grey skin turned into a lighter shade until Frank fell on the ground, dead and void of life, Wally could only stare at Frank's now completely black eyes and the black liquid going down Frank's chin with indifference.

Wally ran a hand through his messy, long blue hair before seeing a gas tank and a match which made Wally smile, "Perfect" Wally uttered before grabbing it and looking towards the neighborhood with a dark smile.

"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood... Would you be mine?Could you be mine?" Wally hum while walking out of Frank's house while dragging the gas tank but with each step a trail of gas painted the sidewalk and plants.

"It's a neighborly day in this beauty wood, a neighborly day for a beauty... Would you be mine?Could you be mine? I have always wanted to have a neighbor, just like you I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you" Wally kept singing softly while having a bit of a skip in his step while he lets the gas ran it's way down the streets, down the trees of the forest, down the sidewalk and down the neighborhood.

"So let's make the most of this beautiful day since we're together, we might as well... say would you be mine, could you be mine? Won't you be my neighbor? Won't you, please? Won't you, please?Plēæßę won’t you be my ńęīghbœr?" Wally sang happily when he reached Home and stood in front of it. Wally looked straight at Home with a glare and a dark smile and then Wally let the leftovers gas fall down the walls, door, garden and flowers around Home. Wally turned around and looked at the neighborhood one last time before sighting since it looked peaceful... Perfect

Wally looked at Home again before lightning up the match and carelessly throwing it in the ground which made Home be set on fire and a trail of fire consume the rest of the neighborhood. Wally didn't mind the screams or the cries of help as he walked towards his apple tree with a satisfied smile as he watched the neighborhood burn up in flames.

"And so... the love will fade into ash because of Home's greedy rule and the last man standing will have no choice but to obey" were the words flying around in the air. The last words that M/n wrote as a warning, not to Wally but to everyone when his fury fell down on them

So! We are missing one more chapter for this series to be over and I must say that this one was kinda dark but really fun to write so I hoped you enjoyed!

Tag list:

@farleyis @whynot5243 @fluffyart5000 @blueberricowboi @bonesbonesbonesuponbones @who-let-me-write-this @pr5is1ng @just-random-post @smiling-carcass @nettaw @sleepyscxry @theorchardcollective @thelostboys11 @darling-w @ametistacollinsworld @vampyrefay @cloudeecheer @lacunaanonymoused @waywardstardustcollector @welcome-home-puppets @redjeanjacket @fried-lotud @waywardstardustcollector @frindtheshapeshifter405 @lotusflowerexe @sleepyscxry @the-gayest-toad @mythjustiice @backyard-bear @beu-is-here0 @just-random-post @fic-fortress @elegantkidfansoul @eyesarefun @one-green-frog @beu-is-here0 @waywardstardustcollector @24-7lazy @azyimnothere @fluffyart5000 @chesterthejester12-blog @redjeanjacket @curiosityscrewedthatcat @gyaruthegory @azul7127 @unstable-and-introverted @seraphlies @akito-chan @myperfectpeachbouquet @darlingclown101 @rikabby69 @gildedanxiety

#wally darling x reader #wally darling x male reader #welcome home #tiredly sammy writes #new neighbor #lgbtq

[silentvoicescryingout]

we await the floods

Read on Ao3

  For cherrytomoeto, by silentvoicescryingout

The sun is bright, the air warm and fragrant. The silence of the forest is hardly that at all; each second and the transient modicums in between are filled with ambient noise. Wind whistling through trees, water trickling over rocks. A bird cawing here, a wild hare snuffling through dry grass there. Creatures cooing, the earth singing its quiet, yet reverberant song. 

In the midst of it all stands an imposing, lone creature. Tall, lithe and dark of mane, sharp-mouthed and fine-jawed. Eyes that glow deep red like burning embers.

“What brings you here, small one?” says the figure, voice rich and deep. 

Sakura rises from her haunches, clutching her woven basket against her side. As she approaches, the light from the sun shining above beats down over her head, fractals of rose and gold reflecting off her pink locks, her honeyed face. Eyes green like the mountainside, green like the moss climbing up the trunks of towering trees settle first on the coastline and then upon him.

“I am small, among many things,” she says, casting her eyes over his face for a long moment. “Nameless, I am not.”

“Sasuke,” he offers, tipping his chin ever so slightly. 

“Sasuke,” she repeats, full, berry-pink lips widening in a tiny smile as she dips her head. “Of the fire. The Fae King’s second son. I know who you are.”

“You do,” he says, blinking slowly as his red irises flicker over her face. “Who are you, then? Surely you stray far from home.”

“I am called Sakura,” she states, glancing away to peer at the small waves lapping against the sand. “And I am far from home.”

A small, dainty, bespeckled hand moves to lift the cloth resting atop the basket at her side. Spinly green shrubbery is revealed.

“I am here collecting these little plants,” she murmurs, voice soft, almost a coo as she runs her fingers lightly over the bristles. “Legend says that the best medicine could be found at the edge of the land, sprouting mere weeks before the floods.”

“And you would risk the journey and the waters for it?” Sasuke’s fine brow quirks, a quizzical glint in his eye.

They two, although separated by much distance, are both children of the Earth. It is impossible for them to cross moving waters (and how terrible would it be for the waters to cross them). Risk enough persists when one dares to even dip their toes in the swells.

Both have risked much coming to this place, daring to linger by the coast even as the sea prepares to swell.

Slender shoulders shrug, “The waters do as they must, and I know to keep my distance. I can mark the phases of the moons.”

“The waters obey no moon nor markings,” he mutters, a bitter note to the richness of his tone. “The floods come when they must, not necessarily when they should.”

“And yet you risk it,” Sakura smiles with another shrug. “I bet it’s not even for the best medicine in the world. Me , I will be helping many sick people by venturing so far.” 

“Tch,” the whites of his eyes hide the red for a moment as they roll upward. “A healer, then. I should’ve known.”

“Pardon my station, great Majesty,” the elven woman responds dryly. “Pray do not burn me to ash where I stand.”

Another scoff is carried away by a strong gust of wind and Sasuke takes a long stride forward. The gentle tide laps mere inches away from his sandaled toes and as Sakura watches with a critical eye, his knees begin a slight tremble.

“The Fae must be in an uproar with their Prince away,” her soft voice muses. 

“I go where I please.”

His legs start to shake in earnest. Green eyes bore into him as his chest rises and falls with each haggard breath. 

“Ah, in that much we are alike,” she murmurs. Sasuke’s long fingers have curled into a tight fist. “Pray step away from the water, Prince.”

His eyes narrow until mere slits of blood-red irises are visible as he peers across the glittering waves, sunlight reflecting off his pinched features.

“Pray leave me to my solitude,” he mutters, but stumbles back a step nonetheless. 

Sakura’s hands glow green and then they are pressed against his chest. Applying light pressure, she pushes him back one pace, then two, three. A coolness sinks into his over-hot flesh, a feeling like taking a seat in the cold, damp soil under the shade of a large tree after days of long-journey.

The aches of his body and his consciousness seem to slip away as they both sink to the sand. It is coarse, gritty against his palms but no more noticeable than the sensation that sweeps through him. Like a balm applied to his inside, it smooths over his muscles, below to the sinow, sinking deep (but soft, gently) into the marrow of his bones. 

“The tide rises, Prince,” Sakura’s voice is weak and yet the wintry aura does not falter. “We must move elsewhere. It weakens you.”

“ You weaken me,” he slurs, eyes burning less brightly by the moment. A flickering ember rather than simmering coal. 

“Come,” she breathes. Her small hands move to his shoulders, hauling him up to unsteady feet.

Her petite frame is bent nearly double under his weight, but she trudges forward. 

Hours, she walks. Till sweat clings the fabrics of her clothes, and her breath burns icy in her throat. Yet her grip does not falter, her arms rigid with strain as she pulls them further and further away from the waters which siphon their strength. Sasuke is limp for much of the journey, hardly conscious until the distance between them and the shore is large enough that the sounds of crashing waves muffles.

The sun is falling steadily, but beats heavy still against Sakura’s brow as she crests a tall hill. A tiny hut sits deep within a cocoon of thin trees and hanging vines and it is at an overgrown path to the doorway that the elf falls to her knees.

“Small one,” Sasuke rasps. “Here you have weakened yourself and yet admonish me for the same.”

Pink strands spill toward the ground like silk when the fairy heaves Sakura into his arms. He stumbles the entire way up to the tiny abode, but keeps a tight grip on his passenger. Sweat beads at her temples, trickling slowly down the sides of her face and pooling in her exposed clavicle. The golden hue of her skin has turned grayish and wan.

There is a layer of dust on every surface inside and so Sasuke manages to cradle the small figure against his chest with one arm briefly enough to wave his hand and send a gust of air just strong enough to remove the thickest layers.

Her lips tremble and teeth begin to chatter as he lays her down upon the low-sitting, narrow bed in a far corner of the place. 

“ Foolish elf,” says he, running his warm palms over her arms. “How can someone I’ve known for less than a day irritate me so?”

   “Ah, such gratitude… for the one who has saved you,” her voice is weak but holds its snark. “And who is he that throws around the word fool after nearly diving in the ocean swells?”

Sasuke’s face hovers above her own and their gazes lock. His hands continue their motions over her goose-pimpled skin almost absently as they stare into each other. 

“Your warmth has returned,” she murmurs. 

“It is a good thing,” he scoffs quietly, applying more weight to his fingers as he strokes over the muscles of her arms, over the knobbed joints of her wrists. “Had it not, you would have collapsed and frozen.”

“I did not collapse the entire trek here,” green pupils peer at him through the narrowed slits of her eyelids. 

“Another good thing,” he murmurs. “A thing I truly should show my gratitude for.”

“It is not necessary,” she breathes, flush returning to her cheeks. “Any other elf would have done the same.”

“Ah, kinder beings than mine,” he replies, voice low and rumbling. His skin burns hot, like a fever but not quite. “I shall thank you, nonetheless.” 

Fae were well-known for many things, but above all their thanks. Self-sufficient creatures they were, and so rarely did they need to express gratitude; they were those that gave favor, hardly did they ever receive. 

And so their thanks was a tangible thing, a gift bestowed only upon the special, the deeply appreciated.

“Are you familiar with the ways fae show gratitude?” he asks.

“I’ve heard tales,” she mumbles, staring as his face looms close.

Lips far softer than such a hard creature deserves brush lightly over her own. Pale pink lashes flutter as if taken by a breeze, and Sakura’s head lulls back against the flat and threadbare pillows. The rush of heat through her person causes deep pink to rise to the surface of her cheeks, for her pulse to quicken and her breaths to grow deep. No rejuvenating herb could have such an effect– she could have trekked down and up that hill again, three times, in this state.

“That was a fine thanks,” she huffs, sitting up slowly.

“Only the first one, for your company,” Sasuke says. “The second, for your labor.”

This time, his mouth presses firmly, his exhale seeping between the small space between her lips, sinking into the depths of her chest and warming it like a hearth. Large hands wrap around her waist, before one reaches to cup her cheek. 

“A third,” Sasuke’s voice is gruff, his eyes soft and burning red like a blood moon, “for my life. Because who knows if I would have let the tides sweep me away on this day.”

Sakura’s mouth is soft and plush, tasting both of tangy herbs and sweet fruit. Her hands are dainty–they creep slowly from his chest, to his shoulders, to the nape of his neck. When his tongue dips inside to slide against her own, the soft exhale she elicits is cool like a sip of water from the deepest of wells. 

They pull apart at the sound of clapping thunder, followed by the distinct patter of rain against waxy leaves.

“The floods,” she whispers. “They…are early.” 

“It is safe here,” Sasuke murmurs. His lids rest low over his irises, gaze fixated on the warm flush about her mouth. “We must only wait until the waters pass.”

“That might take weeks, Prince,” Sakura shakes her head, fear creeping about the edges of her green orbs, darkening their hue. “And to journey around the area to my home…to your home-”

“I suppose home for both of us is here, then,” he remarks. No fire had ever glowed so bright as the one in his chest. “Until it is safe for both of us to return from where we came.”

The air feels heavy with a sense of timid anticipation, a slight foreboding. The waters are routine, but also unpredictable. It is unlikely the tides would climb so far up, but how long would they stay high and cover the land below this hill? How long would Sakura be far from her village and its forests, Sasuke from his kin and their fires? 

“Sleep, small one,” Sasuke stands from the bed and sheds his long, inky-colored cloak. The fabric falls heavy and warm over Sakura’s waist. “I will ensure this place stays warm through the night.”

  ✣✣✣

Five days pass before the two reach a breaking point. The two stranger-companions attempt to make their shelter more hospitable. Sakura gathers the fabrics and washes them with water from an old well, refilled by her efforts to turn the soil deep below and reveal trickles of water from within. Sasuke sends gusts of hot air to force dust and debris out of the windows, through the open door. They stabilize the walls and ceiling, scrub at the dinghy floorboards and fuss at each other over temperature and ambience.

The towering, flame-eyed fairy would have them trapped in a dark, stifling heat day in and out. The petite elf prefers to leave the windows open to allow a whisper of cool breeze, to welcome the smells and sounds of nature in.

“You’ll freeze to your death if you do not draw these shutters,” Sasuke growls. His footfalls are heavy on purpose as he approaches where she stands, reaching around to tug the window shut.

Sakura hisses as he crowds her, her nose centimeters away from his chest, “Better than suffocating from heat and ash. Must you have a fire burning constantly ? We will run out of lumber soon enough.”

“Then you shall draw up more for us,” he says brusquely. The small creature before him vibrates, pointed ears burning red with frustration.

“ Oh , I do hope you are betrothed to an old, wrinkly hag,” she spits.

The scoff elicited in response is nasty at best.

“And who would be your betrothed? Some tiny little man with whiskers falling to his knees?” 

“Not all elves are small!”

“And yet, you are the smallest intelligent creature I have seen,” as if to emphasize his point, the prince bends slightly at the waist to peer into her face. “Were you not so loud, I might tread on you by mistake.”

“I am loud, but I wager that is better than having the character of a stone,” Sakura retorts. Her arms cross tight over her chest.

She had shed her heavy dressings for a thin tunic to combat the heat Sasuke caused in the small shelter. It exposed much of her flesh in an irritatingly appealing fashion.

“This stone keeps you from freezing solid in the night,” Sasuke is deadpan, and he mirrors her stature. 

“ Thank you, kind Prince,” she drawls with an eye roll so violent it is a wonder the green jewels do not fall from her head.

“If you intend to show your gratitude, at least do so properly,” Sasuke says. 

With his arms crossed tight over his chest, his shoulders look broader, the muscles of his biceps sinewy and defined. His hair is long enough to brush his collarbones, locks swept wild about his head and falling haphazardly over one side of his face. The room feels small with him drawn to his full height and Sakura hates that she can feel the heat of him from where she stands.

“If you desire me, simply say so, Prince,” she snaps. “All this talk of thanks and gratitude tires me.”

A single dark brow rises and his jaw clenches tight.

“I desire you.”

“Your games exhaust me, truly,” Sakura steps around his imposing form and makes her way to the sorry excuse for a bed. “I feel not one ounce of guilt for you sleeping on the floor each night. If I must suffocate from the heat–”

“Sakura,” her name is nearly foreign to her for how little she hears it from his lips. A shiver crawls down her spine despite the heat of his breath behind her neck. “ I desire you .”

“You have been cruel to me since we began to shelter here,” she whispers.

“Have I been cruel?” he murmurs and now his palm is resting on her shoulder, heat seeping deep into her muscle, licking over the surface of bone. “Or have I disagreed with you on occasion?”

“Those things are one in the same,” she says, voice weak. His fingers are long enough to sweep over the flesh just below her collarbones, the heat of his body stifling as he draws closer.

“You have been the cruelest,” he breathes, grip tightening as his head lowers to level his mouth with her ear. “You lie inches away from me in the night, but do not allow me to share with you my own warmth. You shed layers of dress, but hide the best of you underneath such frustrating fabrics. Teasing, and taunting you are, but…”

Sakura’s mouth is dry, her voice hardly a rasp, “But?”

“But you do not want as I do,” he says tightly. “You do not suffer through a one-sided attraction. I am but a stranger taking up your space.”

“You speak so lowly of yourself, my Prince,” she mutters. “Perhaps a tonic for your mood.”

“Joke how you like,” he hisses and a shudder works through her at the way his chest vibrates against her back. “I will desire you no less, even as you annoy me so.” 

Sakura can finally feel the chill of the night air as the prince rips away and stalks over to the old fireplace. She hears the deep exhalation and then the crackling and popping of embers. The fire roars to life, sending flickering shadows and licking silhouettes across the walls, but she still feels cold, freezing.

Sasuke lingers close to the hearth, unflinching as tiny sparks sprinkle across the skin of his feet and arms. A cool pressure at the center of his back pulls his attention away from the dancing flames.

“You have kept me warm each night,” Sakura says, so quiet it is as if he feels her voice rather than hears it. “And I should thank you for it.”

He turns, a scowl curling his features but is given pause by the shining of green that faces him. The shape of the flames dance across jade irises, cast shadows over high-set, freckled cheeks and plump, blossom-pink lips.

She beckons him and he bends so she can grasp his face, pressing her mouth to his. And he is lost, falling into her embrace as if he did not better her in size and stature. They sink to the floor, resting on their knees as small hands scrape through his locks and against his scalp, and strong, hot hands grip at her slender waist and full hip. Steam billows thinly between their mouths as their lips and tongues dance together, pulling and pushing, taking and giving in. 

Sakura’s posture crumples slightly as her muscles tremble. Sasuke tightens his grip and guides her slowly to rest back on the floor, cushioning her head with one palm and cradling her back with the other. 

Her fingers knot near-painfully in his hair and a small whimper spills from her mouth when he nips at her lower lip in response. He soothes the sting with a sweep of his burning tongue and then sucks it into his mouth with a deep groan.

“I could kiss you from sunrise till dawn,” he whispers, running his lips over her jaw, kissing at her ear before flicking his tongue at the pointed tip. 

“Aren’t those the same, Prince?” she laughs. Her mirth turns into a shuddering gasp when he sucks at her earlobe before kissing wetly down her neck..

“The entirety of the day is what I mean, elf–from one sunrise to the next,” he chuckles. “And call me by my name, Sakura.”

“Sasuke,” she breathes.

“ Yes .” 

His mouth covers her once more, pulling another whimper from her throat. His hand slips around her waist and slides slowly until he is palming her breast, kneading the flesh with a dizzying combination of heat and firm pressure.

“I wish to see you,” he rasps.  

Sakura frees his hair from her grasp to tug at her gown with clumsy fingers. A shuddering breath expands his chest when her breasts are exposed to his gaze. He pulls back slowly, enough to kneel between her thighs and shrug out of his own tunic, before tugging her skirts away from her legs.

A deep flush rises from the top of her chest to her hairline when Sasuke grasps her knees and pushes them wide to stare down at her center. Her crevices are slick and plump with desire already. 

“Bless the waters,” he chokes before lowering himself so his face is level with her stomach. He presses a deep, fervent kiss to her belly button before trailing his mouth lower, and lower still. “Bless them, for bringing you to me.”

“Pray they don’t rise high enough to submerge us now,” Sakura replies tremulously. The stroke of a wet, flexible appendage between her folds sends her squirming.

“There is no better place to drown than between your thighs,” he groans before kissing her intimately, his tongue lapping at her wetness and lips teasing the pearled nub at the peak of her mound. 

A strangled moan spills from her lips before she catches them between her teeth, thighs trembling and flexing as she tilts her hips away from the hungry mouth, and rolls them back toward him incrementally. 

“Be still,” he orders, voice thick and slightly muffled. A particularly invasive lick that takes his tongue from her clitoris all the way to her entrance and inside sends her bucking against him with a gasp.

The gasp turns into a sharp cry when the fingers gripping at her hip become unbearably hot for a fraction of a moment. Sakura is left reeling and panting at the residual sting as she stares down at the burning red eyes peering at her from between her legs.

“Still,” he repeats, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he treats her to another long, lascivious lick.

Any refute she has is swept away as the fairy feasting on her flesh doubles his efforts, sucking and laving at her with sinful abandon. One of his hands creeps down, a long finger pressing deep into her core, followed by a second before she can even wrap her head around the sensation.

His head pulls away ever so slightly as he thrusts the appendages into her at a building pace. A keening moan spears through the quiet and her hands fall to his head, pulling him closer.

“Wh-what manner of thanks is this, my prince?” she pants, words hitching with every stroke of his hand.

“The most pure form of gratitude,” he says, pinning her with his heavy gaze. His fingers curl on an outward stroke and her hips buck in his grip, rising just in time to meet his seeking mouth as he sucks at her again.

Climax rushes through her in an instant, and Sasuke seems to burn hotter for it. The heat is emanating off of his skin in waves, combating even the fire burning just alongside of them. Sweat slickens her flesh, trickling between her breasts and he catches it with his tongue as he crawls back up her body.

A tortured groan rips through his chest at the press of her cool hands to his bare abdomen. His trousers are kicked away in a rush, but he reaches for her slowly, drawing her shivering and glistening body to his chest as he rolls to his side. Small, slender fingers creep downward and brush lightly over the dampened tip of him before he grasps her wrist and loops it behind his neck. Brushing reverent fingertips over the smooth, silky skin of her calf, he grasps at her leg and notches it over his, aligning their hips and capturing her mouth with his in a searing kiss.

Rigid flesh sweeps over her soaked folds and they both moan deeply. One large hand spreads wide at the center of her back as the other grasps at her hip tightly, rocking her lower body such that Sasuke’s arousal slips against her, the head of him bumping against her pearl.

“I have desired you since the moment I first saw you, my prince,” Sakura breathes against his mouth, cupping the back of his neck with her hand and brushing the knuckles of the other against his flushed cheek. “My Sasuke.”

He smothers her with a kiss and a breathless moan she can feel , just as she can feel how he shifts their hips and lowers her slowly over his shaft. The muscles of her inner thighs tremble as her inner walls spread to accommodate his flesh. It feels like an eternity passes before her buttock meets the firm muscle of his thigh and they exhale deeply as one.

Sasuke gives her no chance to inhale before he is thrusting in and out of her, bottoming out deep inside with each sway of his hips. She is wrapped tight around him, sliding slick and heady and he feels as if his chest will burst, as if even he cannot tame his own flames as they roar in his chest, lick hot through every inch of his flesh and through his flexing muscles. 

But then she is there, all cool, soft skin and refreshing breaths, cooling the simmering in his lungs and pulling him tight into her arms, between her legs. He sinks into her depths until he can drown himself no further, pulling back only to plunge in again. He rips his mouth away from hers to take the fleshy part of her shoulder between his teeth, panting steam from his nostrils and clutching at her with feverish palms. 

Sakura clings to him as he pushes and pulls at her, knocking into her so forcefully her breath is taken and returned with each forward sway. When he begins chanting her name into the cradle of her neck, she digs her nails into his nape, anchoring herself as she tilts her hips against his onslaught, mimicking the passion of his movement to the best of her ability. 

A slight adjustment of his flexing hand sends him careening against a spot deep inside that sets her mind reeling. Sharp pants and rough groans spill from his lips and she cries out, clutching at him as her body draws tight like a thread, a feeling like reaching a tipping point rising inside of her. 

The thread breaks, the world falls away and she is floating, no, she is pinned to the earth, sinking into the soil and being wrapped up and pulled apart by deep-reaching roots, stretching her body to its limit until she finally snaps in a burst and a shrill cry.

Sasuke shudders violently against her and she is only just coming back to the present when she finds herself slammed onto her back, caged by his arms around her head as he drives into her, pistoning in and out faster than her body can keep up with as she weathers the aftershocks of her climax.

Green eyes stare upward, nearly cloudy with bliss and awe, locking onto his and Sasuke is burning, caught in the central blue flame of a supernova, melting into her so deep it would take an eternity to remove his remnants.

“Sakura,” he gasps once the breath comes back into his lungs. Her arms wrap tight around his shoulders and he buries his face into her chest.

They are lulled to sleep by the crackling sounds of the dying flame and the slowing of their own heavy breaths.

✣✣✣

Shallow puddles pepper the grassland, muddy divots already springing forth new plantlife. The tide is gentle against the coast, golden sand glittering under the increasing sunlight. A cool breeze tickles against their napes, blowing pink and raven strands into slight disarray.

“There are many small elven communities in the kingdom,” Sasuke says in a low voice, nearly overtaken by the whistling wind. 

His face is drawn tight, reminiscent of how it was when they first happened upon each other. Features pinched and brows furrowed like the day he stood with toes dipping into the swells, his flames sputtering out in the sunlight.

A small hand reaches up, up until he is forced to bend. Just long enough for her to brush the pads of small fingertips over his jaw, bringing to life the softer expression she became so well acquainted with through many waning days and vibrant nights.

“I am needed,” Sakura replies with a tiny smile. “At least for a long while. No one else has the mastery over healing and medicine as I do. But…I will return here before the next flood season to gather my herbs.”

Her smile remains steady, even as the slightest tremble creeps about her words. Sand crunches lightly as the tall, lithe creature takes a step forward. 

“It is my earnest hope that one day we shall be able to lie in each other's arms every sunset, every dawn” Sasuke murmurs, pressing too-warm fingers against his lover’s cool cheek. 

A deep breath expands his chest, puffs hot over Sakura’s face. The edge of his lips tilts in a tiny smile and he moves his hand to prod the center of her forehead, a feather light tap.

“Until then, we await the floods.”

End.

Taglist: @zenonico @ephemeredoll @pomeyasha @psalloacappella

#silentfics #silent writes #silentvoicescryingout #silentvoices #sasusaku #sasusakufanfiction #sasusaku smut #fantasy au #fairy sasuke #elf sakura #strangers to lovers #worlds apart #one shot #sasusaku oneshot #naruto fanfiction #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #alternate universe #canon non-compliant #there's probably typos sorry #there is sort of plot but not really #worldbuilding is hard so i don't do it #fairies have magical kisses #sasuke is down bad #real bad #lemme know if you want on the taglist

[thegirlintheredchair]

السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته

Look who has emerged from the depths of her own mind to write a blog post. I haven’t written in ages. I had planned on writing “Letters to Allah” (a sort of summary of the month and what I learned) in my journal after each month but I sadly didn’t keep up. 😕

It is birthday month! (No, today is not my birthday). I’ve never liked birthdays and I’ve never celebrated them (apart from treating myself to good food, donating or planting a tree) but if anything, I use birthdays as a measure for my spiritual, mental and worldly growth.

I feel like I’ve aged 50 years since the beginning of this year and I am definitely not the same person at all. I feel like two different people tbh. (I would like to think I’ve progressed mentally and spiritually. Lol).

It has been a tumultuous year so I’m highlighting 31 lessons I’ve learned this year before turning 31. Some are constant lessons and some are new ones.. I hope this benefits you too.

Prioritise Allah over everything, especially over your desires and whims…this life is for His obedience and to gain His pleasure. In other words, the deen of Allah requires sacrifice. We are already sold… Allah has already promised us heaven granted we place Him over everything else. Yani there is nothing more beneficial to a person than seeking and possessing the pleasure of Allah. If He is pleased, He will give you contentment in all your affairs, in this life and the hereafter. Guaranteed! In short, Don’t lose sight of the akhira. Nothing in this world is promised. The reality is that there is only one reality!

Take time out to send salutations on our beloved Prophet (ﷺ) and you will be amazed by the change you’ll see in your life. I am currently not in the habit of doing this daily but I’ve experienced its benefits. My aim is usually to send salutations at least 500 times daily and countless times on a Friday. The shortest darood shareef is simply his name. I also like this one: "صلى الله علی سیدنا محمد و آله و سلم"

Lots of people need to hear this: Please take your Salah seriously! What even are you if you can’t say your five daily prayers?? It is the bare minimum. They make up less than 50 minutes of your day! You are depriving yourself of not being able to enjoy the comfort of talking to Allah. Also like how dare you abandon the one who provides for you continuously and unconditionally?? How do you intend to have a productive day when you don’t start it with Fajr? How do you intend to sleep peacefully if you don’t end your day with Isha?

DON’T.STOP.MAKING.DUA!! It took me a long time to idk internalize this? Lol. Yani I went through periods of asking for something diligently and then not asking for it at all. Because you know your hope wavers. And that’s okay but don’t stop making dua. It’s like that quote, (I forget who it’s by; I think it’s by Umar (RA)) “if He has inspired you to make dua, know that He wants to grant you what you’re asking.” Besides Allah never says no to our duas. He only has three response: “There is no Muslim who calls upon Allah, but that Allah will give him one of three answers: He will quickly fulfil his supplication, He will store it for him in the Hereafter, or He will divert an evil from him similar to it.” (Musnad Aḥmad 11133). Pair your dua with tahajjud and watch miracles unfold!! ✨️ ("The dua made at tahajjud is like an arrow which does not miss its target. - Imam Ash-Shafi’")

Learn the etiquettes of making Dua (I might do a separate post on this) but for real don’t just start with what you want. I’ve been looking into this lately and this is what I’ve learned so far (briefly): Start by Praising Him. Call Him by His Greatest names. (Al-Rahman, Al-Raheem, Al Ahad etc).Thank Him for the countless blessings he bestows on you. Every.Single.Day. Then pour your heart out!!!! And ask. Please ask unapologetically and shamelesslesly? He is the Lord of Impossible. The Lord of Miracles. Who else even is there in your corner?? End the dua with salutations on the Prophet (ﷺ). “Du’aa’ is suspended between heaven and earth and none of it is taken up until you send blessings upon your Prophet (ﷺ)” - ‘Umar ibn al-Khattaab [al-Tirmidhi (486). That being said, you can make Dua at literally any time.

Sit with the righteous. This is sooooo important. You need these circles that talk about Allah. The Sunnah of our beloved Prophet (ﷺ). The Noble Quran. These are your anchors for sanity in this world tbh. (Yes the internet lectures are good but if you have actual physical circles with real tangible people thats even better) These circles lift your imaan (much needed in todays world), keep you sane in the face of adversity; I honestly wouldn’t know how to solve or navigate my problems, if it weren’t for Islam. I am where I am today because of His religion. Its like that quote by Umar (RA) [can you tell he’s one of my favorite companions 🙃] “We were the most humiliated people on earth and God gave us honor through Islam. If we ever seek honor through anything else, God will humiliate us again.”

An attitude of Gratitude. This year has been a huge lesson in this. It made me be thankful to Him in every situation. Gratitude brings abundance, it unlocks the fullness of life. It’s the little pleasures in live (that we take for granted) a roof over our head, hot meals, the presence of parents and siblings that care and love you. A family that practices the Deen and has the same mind-set. Sunsets, the moon. Friends like family, your health, an unblocked nose. Our own existence as Muslims! (We’re from amongst the guided, imagine if we weren’t?) Just there’s far more to be thankful for than to dwell on that one problem(s) you’re facing. Gratitude needs to be our default position. This year I made a concise effort to become a person of Shukr and it has kept me anchored and has brought me back from moments where I was about to give up hope. 🥹🫶🏻

#PocketsofPeace. Sit with the Noble Quran, ponder over its meaning. Pick a surah for a year or go through random ayats. No amount of time with it will ever be enough. The Honorable Quran is like the ocean, the deeper you dive into its meaning, the more you’ll discover. Also this will build your faith. We live in end times and our resolute faith is the only thing that can save us!!! Faith is the only thing that has survived the test of time. It pivots you back to the one thing that will always remain constant in your life no matter how much the world modernizes; Allah.

Qadr Allah; Tawakkul. Every year I say I’ve internalized it and every year I struggle with it. I will say that this year this has strengthened in comparison to last year. Qadr is the sixth pillar of faith (not believing in it can take you outside of the fold of Islam). The thing with Qadr is that it is only appreciated in hindsight, or viewed in the past tense. Your way forward to navigate Qadr is through your Tawakkal in your Lord and your duas. The Prophet (ﷺ) said (on his son Ibrahims death): “The eyes are shedding tears, and the heart is grieved, and we will not say expect what pleases our Lord” (Sahih Bukhari 1303)

There is always khair in delay. “What is meant for you will reach you even if it is between two mountains. And what isn’t meant for you will not reach you even if it is between your lips” –Imam Ghazali

“But perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you; and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you. And Allah knows, while you know not” (2:216)

Define your boundaries! especially if you're an empath. Whether it’s at home, work, university, or even friendships. You are your biggest advocate! I have to say this though that learning and knowing more about my religion has helped me become firm on setting them and not budging from them or feeling guilty about them or thinking that people will think I'm weird. Define your boundaries from the beginning so no one gets to take advantage of your empathetic nature. You can be empathetic and still say no.

The other end of the spectrum is just as shitty (excuse my French). This one is a lesson solely for me. I wish to explain this one no further.

Log out of social media once in a while! It is refreshing. There’s less noise because you are only exposed to the lives and opinions of those immediately around you (as God intended. Lol). This might not be a hot take, but we aren’t meant to hear every thought, see each other’s lives or know about people’s emotions who we will probably never see face to face.

In the same vein, be mindful of media you consume. When I took a break and came back, it just made me realize how much none of it matters??? Likewise being always on SM we are constantly receiving information. Like Too Much Information. I don’t think were supposed to crowd our brains like that. Take at least 24 hours off of social media every week. You’ll thank me later.

Peace of mind over everything. Im a big advocate for this! “When a thing disturbs the peace of your heart, give it up.” -Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ).” [al-Zuhd wal-Raqā’iq 1147]

You are on your own, you can’t rely on people to do what’s important to you. If it’s important to you, you’ll have to do it yourself. No one is going to step up. You need to show up for yourself!

Keep Husn Adh Dhan (thinking good of other people). Boy do I struggle with this one! People can be bone deep kind, loving and self-reflective but can still be selfish in certain situations. People can be well meaning, generous, sociable and easy going and still hold deep seated opinions that turn them into vicious little bullies. Every person is a kladeiscope and they will surprise you. (I don’t think you can ever fully know another person) You will surprise yourself too. It’s not a warning and it's not a judgement and it's not an excuse either. It’s also not a reason to stop trying or to stop trusting. (Even though I’m still struggling) it is just a fact! I understand the concept of Husn Adh Dhan, and I’d like to think this year I’ve internalized this a little? But I have a long way to go.. May Allah help make it easy to distinguish who is gold and who is gold plated.

Privacy is power!! A quiet life is so underrated! SM and capitalism and culture has put such a significant emphasis on the definition of success as fame, being known, having an accolade of worldly accomplishments and excessive wealth. There is so much power in anonymity. Your life does not have to be a grand spectacle for others to have a worth. You don’t need that kind of validation bro! Plus it saves you from so much Ayn!

Trust your gut. Vibes and energy don’t lie. If something is off about a situation or a person. It means it is off. Intuition is God’s gift! And women have it down to a science.

Cut music out of your daily life. I swear to you, you could be doing much better stuff with your time than numbing your brain with beats. Also I feel it opens the path for you to commit other sins and just look at sinning in a different light? Do I make sense? Lol. Replace that with nasheeds or Qur’anic recitation. You’ll end up memorizing a few ayats too (or a whole surah). It’s a win!

Not everything needs a reaction. Learn to walk away. Spent your energy and your time wisely.

Make Dhikr a part of your daily routine. Your heart is your most hardworking muscle but it needs to rest too! (please, Im trying to be poetic) "Verily in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest." (13:28)

A Litmus test for choosing a spouse: the single most important decision you'll ever make as a woman is choosing the father of your children, everything else is secondary to that. If he is God-fearing and God-loving, you have a winner!

Learn the difference between people who are good in general and people who are good for you. Not everyone will understand you or has the same heart as you and that’s okay. Move on don’t keep waiting for the same effort. Some people are just meant to be acquaintances.

Pray for your parents. They put on a tough act for us. Pray for their emotional and mental well-being and that they get to see you successful in both worlds.

Respect and understanding over love. If some one claims to love you and doesn't respect you, they don't actually love you.

Reflecting on your own destructive habits and working towards fixing them is self-care. You have to work towards change; quitting that sin you keep going back to, looking at what needs to go or what needs to be added for your life to move forward. People usually assume self-care is about indulgence (self-worship) or doing whatever you want (selfish). I think it’s more about doing things that are healthy for you.

Cut out people who think you’re arguing or personally attacking them every time you try and solve an issue or express your emotions. It is draining and mentally exhausts you. If someone cannot tolerate you making an effort in communication (read ask clarifying questions) and sharing what you feel, distance yourself from them. No one is a mind reader!

Communication without comprehension is a waste. You could be sharing your most darkest, scariest vulnerabilities with a person and not be reciprocated even with words. I suffer from incomprehension sometimes (read come off as cold). I pray Allah makes me better at easing someone's suffering in whatever capacity I'm capable of.

Be quick to apologize when you know you've hurt someone. Trust me it will take nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. I personally think it helps maintain the trust in any relationship.

If you’ve read till the end, congratulations to you!🤝🏻

Theres been a lot more changes, lots of things i started doing differently that have helped me grow as a person. I like the current me, i feel like i can handle certain situations better than i wouldve last year. Its the small victories that count ✌🏻

Hope you related and benefited from some of these lessons/experiences. May Allah be pleased with us and give us a beautiful end to our lives here. Ameen. ✨️

Love, Phi 🕊

#turning 31 #31 things i learned before turning 31 #birthday month #birthday week #surreal #pagesofsilver #writing after ages #tell me which point you relate to most #still cant reply to people on tumblr #may allah be pleased with me #jazkallah khiar for reading

[rainpebble3]

WIP ... Some day...

So we're probably closer to Friday... but I've been tagged in WIP Wednesday by the incredible @thequeenofthewinter and @dirty-bosmer. I'm slowly, slowly starting to chip away at the masses of OUTSTANDING chapters to catch up on and I've been hammering at a little bit of Layers of Snow and Ash. It's been tricky and chances are this snippet will be severely chopped and tidied before the next chapter is ready.

I'm so late to WIP Wednesday and I have no idea who has been tagged already or not so... if you see this and haven't posted a WIP yet, this is my invitation to you.

Today's screenshot represents me trying to write this chapter and Nera trying to cope with all the new people in the college.

<3

Chapter 12 - The Tour

From their position in the crowd, Nera and Brelyna were barely close enough to hear Master Ervine. Her voice was nearly lost on crashing waves of several footsteps. The fragile, icy shell that had sealed the courtyard earlier was well and truly shattered by the morning sun as flaming rays of sunlight bathed the layers of frost on trees. Nera nearly fell into the person in front of her as the group abruptly stopped next to one of the magical light fountains.

“You will have noticed this, as well as the several others around the college, I’m sure. We ask that you do not touch these. In simple terms they channel the magic being used here, keeping it safe and stable. Any interferences could result in catastrophic consequences…”

“Like another great collapse?!” a tiny voice squeaked.

The group turned to the speaker while Master Ervine pulled her lips together in a tight line. The person, an elf, blushed, turning their olive skin pink and they quickly pulled their hood down over their head. The only thing that could be seen of their face were swirling, thorny tattoos coating their chin like a beard.

Master Ervine cleared her throat. “I won’t lie, it’s certainly a risk. This college currently has four hundred mages studying and working here. It takes a vast amount of energy to accommodate this power.”

Nera’s eyes widened. “Where are they all?” she blurted out and felt the eyes of the group land on her. She nearly apologised for speaking out of turn but a quick look from Brelyna saved her. She was a Maryon now. She could ask any questions she wanted.

“You have Master Neloren to thank for that,” Master Ervine said. “He is our Master of Illusion and has helped enchant the college to be capable of sustaining large groups of students while maintaining a tranquil environment. Now if there are no further interruptions…”

Nodding, Nera ignored the group until Master Ervine started walking onwards. Brelyna nudged her with a silent glare but too many people were crowded around them. Saying anything was impossible so Nera settled for a subtle shrug. She winced as one of the Argonians stepped on her foot, however she had no way to tell if it was a harmless mistake of someone crushed in a small group, or a deliberate attack. She shook herself. This wasn’t Windhelm. There would be no attacks.

Master Ervine led them across the courtyard and stopped outside of the Lustratorium. “Before we enter, I must let you know, there are some plants in here which may be considered dangerous, they will not harm you unless you try to disturb them. Please do not touch anything.”

Silent mutterings of agreement rose from the group. Nera gasped as she was shoved forward, stuck in the current of flapping robes and stamping boots. She hurried forward, avoiding the harsh slap of a tail and ended up behind the crimson clad battle mages.

Entering the Lustratorium was intoxicating. Her eyes watered as soon as her feet crossed the threshold, her nose burned as a hundred types of pollen wafted over her. She wasn’t the only one affected by the plants and several mages coughed, wiping their eyes on their sleeves. Master Ervine looked over her shoulder and smirked.

“You get used to it.”

Somehow Master Ervine was able to speak over the coughs and sneezes of the new mages. They passed plants from different corners of Tamriel and Nera resented being pushed forward, longing for a chance to stop and admire the flowers. Especially when Master Ervine mentioned alien flora and leaves from Morrowind.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #modded skyrim #wip wednesday #writing #elder scrolls #i should be writing #tes

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 3 (aka Beron is a bastard)

The cream stone house was nestled near the edge of a forest. The grounds were encompassed by tall hedges with great trees of the forest bowing over it as if they were peering in. There was only one set of gates at the far end of the property near the paddock for the horses. Orla had two of them that were used to carting patients who were unable to walk.

It was a decent enough size, certainly only a wealthy family could afford such a place if it were in the mortal lands though it was not as vast as the manor Tamlin’s coin had purchased for the Archerons. Nesta liked this home better already. Past the orchard of apple trees, there was a well-tended to garden with beds that were filled with flowers like flames. Yellows and oranges flanked the winding stone path amongst the tall grasses.

Eris led on, his pace gentle. Occasionally, he let out a sharp whistle, pressing his teeth into lip, if one of the smokehounds strayed from the path over Orla’s flowerbeds.

At the end of the path was an arch of twisting vines and honeysuckle flowers. Faintly, Nesta could hear the buzz of a bumblebee as it sought pollen. She heard Eris tut and shake his head.

‘Step back a moment, please.’

The male withdrew a long knife from the sheath on his hip and cut away the overgrown vines that had snaked over the benches, claiming them for their own.

‘Orla doesn’t like to come here anymore, but it’s too pretty to fall to ruin.’

Instead of her arm, Eris took Nesta by the hand this time stepping carefully over the discarded plants and burning them to ashes in his wake.

She thought that he might take the bench next to her to put some distance between them, but the male sat beside her. Despite the warm day, his flames curled in a spiral formation in the brick firepit in front of the two benches. His face was unreadable mostly, but in those amber eyes, Eris sifted through years of memories.

Nesta imagined Orla here with her husband, in this quiet corner of the garden. A place Eris could come to as an escape from life as Beron’s son. How many hours had the three spent here? 

Nesta raised her chin to peer over the rose bushes. She could still make out the roof of the house, but this secret garden had been invisible from the opposite perspective. It was peaceful. A sanctuary from prying eyes.

‘It’s beautiful here.’

Eris gave a slow bob of his head, inhaling the rich scents of the garden. ‘Autumn can feel tedious when it’s all you have, yet the moment I’m out of its grasp, I yearn for home. Do you ever have the same feeling?’

No. Nesta didn’t know how it felt to miss a place. Nowhere had ever felt like a home. Not a place she could belong or a place she wanted to stay. And how badly she did want to set down roots somewhere.

‘I cannot say I do.’

‘Perhaps the Autumn Court will sway you. Spring is a time for re-birth and new beginnings but I’m sure the poets have written something sophisticated about Autumn. Everything has a time to die, all things must end.’ Eris frowned. ‘I’m a terrible poet.’

‘Autumn is my favourite season.’

At her voluntary information, Eris perked up. ‘Why?’

‘Blackberries.’

It felt silly to say it. Winter was dreadful. It came with a bitter cold that no amount of firewood could chase away. She always longed for spring because it brought hope and blue skies. The summer was fine, she supposed, though her allergies had her hiding indoors for most of it. Autumn had always been special. Nesta hoped those long evenings would never end, that winter would never come. She loved the beauty as trees scattered their leaves like unwanted gold. She loved to crunch through piles of them or to collect acorns and conkers. More than anything, Nesta loved the early days of autumn where fat, ripe blackberries hung off brambles so they could stuff their bellies with them without having to spend their last coins on something delicious.

‘Apple and blackberry crumble. With a dollop of clotted cream. I would give my first-born child away for it.’  

‘I’ve never had it.’

Eris gasped dramatically, a hand clutched over his chest. ‘We’ll have it for pudding.’

‘You can cook?’ That was a surprise. Nesta thought the gender roles of the Autumn Court would be rigid, especially for a high lord’s son.

He shook his head hurriedly then said, ‘We’ll ask Orla to make it for pudding – but we can collect the fruit. I’m certain we can manage that.’

The pockets of silence threatened to envelop Nesta again. The bad feelings were returning, that awful grey place where she’d existed before being dragged to the House of Wind where her feelings battled against the roar of emptiness. In the lulls of their conversation, Nesta felt like she was waking from a strange dream. It was as if Illyria never happened, the pregnancy never happened, Hybern had never ruined her.

‘Nesta,’ Eris said gently. ‘I do not expect you to like me and I will not justify my actions because they are done with my court’s interest in mind. That said, it is rare that I ever act without considering every option – then second guessing each one. I suppose what I am trying to say is that when I brought you here, for once in my life, I didn’t think of the consequences. And that’s rare for me.’

One ankle was crossed over his knee. The male was handsome in a way that fitted him. On others, the features might not have meshed well. The milk white skin, amber eyes that reminded Nesta of a hawk, a long, straight nose, and hard angles as if carved from stone. There was no softness to him – yet Nesta had seen smiles from him since she was brought here, the clinical tone banished. He hadn’t sneered or delighted in her misery as she might have expected.

‘We find ourselves now facing a – for lack of a better word – shit storm.’ He tipped his head back, letting the sun wash over his pale face. ‘It’s entirely your choice what we do next. I am meeting with them in a handful of days in the Hewn City. Either we can inform them that you’re safe and well here or we can keep silent.’

Would they even be worried about her? Was it a burden that they no longer had to worry about? Or would they be incensed that she was living beneath Beron’s imposing shadow? Nesta thought of the blades she had Made – their decision to vote on that knowledge had been the flame that helped her descend all ten thousand stairs. They would be sore that they had lost their creature from the Cauldron who did their bidding.

‘I’m not ready to go back.’

Not ready to face Cassian or Rhysand. Even thinking of the former was akin to tearing out her own heart. Nesta took a moment to lament the progress the priestesses had been making. If she didn’t return then likely many of them would recede back to the library. She had been that bridge connecting them from the library to the training ring. Gwyn’s bright, happy face pushed to the forefront of her mind then Emerie’s. Her friends who she’d left behind.

‘You have already done so much for me, but I need to ask for more.’

Anger rippled across Eris’ face. ‘Do not say that. You were forced to traipse after that brute like a dog. He had you sleeping on the hard ground worse than animal. That bastard, Rhysand, threatened to kill his own sister. I didn’t do enough Nesta. When the rivers of Illyria run red then I’ll have done enough.’

There were the glimpses of the male she expected to meet, sharp and cutting, full of hatred. But she could give no defence to Cassian or Rhysand. Couldn’t find it in herself to muster any reasoning why Eris shouldn’t hurt them.

‘Apologies,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘That was crude. Please, whatever you need, it shall be done.’

‘Can a letter be taken to Illyria?’

Through fumbling through Orla’s study, Eris found a pen and paper for Nesta to write to Emerie. It was the safest option, and somehow her friend would get the message to Gwyn. Hastily, she wrote that she was safe and well, not to worry about her, but to continue their training.

Eris asked if he could read it. His brow bunched with distaste. ‘Why aren’t you telling her the truth?’

‘I don’t want to bring trouble to Autumn.’

‘Not that. Why haven’t you told her why you’ve had to leave? What they did to you. You don’t need to protect these people, Nesta. They do not deserve your kindness. Your friends love you. They deserve to know what monsters they live alongside.’

There should have been guilt over her betrayal, but Nesta found that once her hand began to spill the secrets of her heart, she could not stop it. Her hand flew over the paper, covering side after side, right from the beginning of why she was taken to the House of Wind. Not a single stone was left unturned. Nesta could acknowledge that she had done things that were not acceptable, crossed lines, pushed too far. But the others were not innocent. The only secret she kept was her whereabouts – and the unlikely male who had come to rescue.

Eris remained at the table with a dog between his legs, fussing his ears throughout. When Nesta had finished, for a reason she could not name, she offered it for him to read. It was a test of sorts. Nesta had written everything. She measured her breathing as Eris skimmed the loping lines of her letter. He paused near the end, where Nesta had explained how the inner circle had voted on her Made weapons. This was the moment where Nesta expected a cavalry charge to drag her to the Forest House where she’d be at the mercy of Beron Vanserra. Her power could create unstoppable weapons – and that was only a drop of it. But then Eris raised his brow and continued reading until the end.

‘I’ll have to wait until its dark, but I should be able to manage it.’

‘If it’s too dangerous, please don’t. You’ve already risked a lot for me, but I do not want you hurt on my behalf.’

Eris’ stare went through Nesta. It was an unflinching thing that bore down on her, demanding to see all of her.

‘It will be done, Nesta.’ Eris stood, the dog following him as he moved across the red tiled floor of the kitchen. ‘Now, we need to feed you – and I think a cup of tea would be delicious.’

She thought at first he had been talking to the dog until tea was mentioned. Eris would not let her skip a meal. Nesta was beginning to feel unsettled too without the rigor of training then the library. The lack of routine was causing a panic that nibbled at her edges. She had grown too comfortable with the life laid out for her by the inner circle.

Orla had left a little basket of cheese scones covered over by the window with directions to various jars of chutneys if they wished. Neither of them could figure out how to light the stove in Orla’s kitchen for tea.

‘Don’t look at me. I’m a pampered heir. This is my first time in a kitchen,’ Eris said, screwing his eyes into slits as he examined the stove once more as if it might yield its secret now.

‘There’s no guarantee the magic will make you the high lord though. I thought it could choose differently.’

Eris nodded in agreement. ‘That is true. Generally, it does pass to the eldest who will have spent their entire life preparing for it. Maybe the magic knows that I’d be best equipped to inherit it.’

‘But it could be Lucien,’ Nesta hedged, wondering if she’d see the infamous cruel streak of Eris Vanserra at the mention of his exiled brother. She almost wanted to glimpse his temper, to see whether the rumours were true.

Something odd passed over Eris’ face. She couldn’t name the emotion. Not anger. Not irritation. His face faltered, the easy smile flashing like a grimace for a moment, then he said, ‘No. It will not be Lucien.’

Eris shook away whatever cobwebs had clung to him at the talk of Lucien and pressed a palm to his forehead. ‘The trouble with such a vast education is that sometimes common sense can be in short supply. They’re unable to teach such a skill.’

A bead of red flame grew in his palm like a moss until the whole thing was engulfed. Flames trickled over his hand, not burning the skin. With his spare hand, he held the copper kettle above it, boiling the water that way.

‘A very clever trick.’

Eris bowed his head. ‘I have my uses. They are few and far between, but they do exist.’

The self-deprecating humour made Nesta’s lips press into a smile. Eris gasped.

‘That was a smile. It does happen.’

‘It was more of a grimace than anything.’

Eris scoffed at her measly attempt at denial. ‘Babies look as if they’re smiling when really it’s trapped wind. Twenty-four to the fae is practically a baby still. Do you need me to burp you or can you manage?’

Nesta was at a loss for words. Here was the vindictive son of Beron Vanserra who Mor trembled at the mention of. He had cultivated a reputation of violence and cold, cut-throat savagery. But Nesta couldn’t help herself smiling again as he stood teasing her, his amber eyes bright with amusement. The kettle was still held aloft, flames encircling it from below.  

‘You are very…’ Nesta wasn’t sure what word to select.

‘Handsome? Charming?’

‘Strange,’ she settled on.

Eris’ laughter was loud, but genuine. Nesta doubted that anybody had called him that in his long life – and whether she’d find her neck on a chopping block before the day was out. In spite of herself, his laughter made her smile for the first time in days, a true smile.

***

Bit by bit, hour by hour, Eris coaxed life back into Nesta. He had to be soft and gentle – behaviours that were rare enough for him to display – to manage the despicable treatment she’d endured in the Night Court. In the moments where his guard slipped and glimpses of the male he could be with such a select number came out, Nesta seemed to shine. Earning her smiles became a competition for Eris. He wanted to see them all. The shy ones that she hid quickly, the ones that started slow but spread across her face – and the rarest of all, the ones where she laughed and scrunched up her nose.

Once Orla returned home after a day spent seeing to families riddled with fever and sickness, Nesta volunteered to help her cook. Dutifully, she listened and followed instructions. In the moments where a stillness passed over them, Nesta would become forlorn, her lips parting and eyes filling with emptiness. So Eris threw everything he had at her, every terrible play on words to make her scoff, every embarrassing anecdote about him and Orla to make her lips twist into a smile, every trick he’d managed to teach Artyom that served no purpose except to show off.

With the fruit they had picked earlier, Orla obliged them and made a crumble. Once it was finished, Eris found that he didn’t want to leave. Nesta was quiet, offering little to the conversation once Orla had returned, but she listened in with interest. He knew that the female wasn’t even an acquaintance, that he could not compare her character to the glimpses of the past, but Eris knew somehow that Nesta was not right. She was not well. She was not… not happy. And he found it difficult to leave her overnight without probing into her upset and trying to fix it all. Worse still was the fact that he did not know why he felt the desire to bring her happiness. He didn’t know the female. Didn’t need her company or owe her anything. But she had carved herself into his memories the day she stood in front of Prythian’s high lords and made Beron Vanserra still. She had made him listen.

The letter Nesta had written for her Illyrian friend had been an eye opener. It had taken all of his control not to burn the Hewn City to ash the moment he’d finished it. Eris didn’t care about her powers in that moment or what might happen to the court’s exulted high lady. He cared only that Nesta was safe now. She was away from those people and he’d ensure she was taken care of. Well, him and Orla.

For now, Nesta was caught in a limbo where she missed the place but did not want to be part of it. Nesta was wasted in the Night Court. There was more she could do, more she could be, than the same snarling warrior they churned out year after year. When she was ready for the truth, Eris would tell her. The brute did not deserve her. He would always be Rhysand’s dog, his loyal companion. Her sisters did not deserve her. The Night Court did not deserve her. If that was how they treated the sister of the high lady then Eris dreaded to think what life was like for the other females. Nesta would have her safety first then she would grow.

Even if he did not want to, Eris had to say goodbye. He’d neglected a day of paperwork for the first time in his adult life. It was the only time he could remember not picking up a pen or barking an instruction at someone. The webs he weaved required constant observation lest they gather dust or be torn down. Nesta had captured his attention like an unsolvable puzzle. And so Eris said goodbye with the promise that the tutor would arrive in the morning. Nesta had to have that hope of a future to keep her pushing through each sunset. She needed to want to see the dawn.

Under the cover of darkness, Eris fell into the same regime with Ashur, switching positions within the forest before he winnowed to Illyria to deliver the letter.

Windhaven was quiet which was a mercy. Nesta had done her best to describe the location of the shop within the camp, but anybody without wings was noticeable. Eris kept his hood up, head pointed down as he crossed the sloppy mud roads towards the western portion of the camp. Red hair was an Autumn Court trait. He did not need anybody to catch sight of him and whispers to reach the ears of the ruling council.

The shop was dark, expected at the late hour, so Eris didn’t linger. Merely pushed the envelope through the letterbox and slipped back into darkness. He had fulfilled Nesta’s wish – the only thing she could name as a want. It still twisted Eris’ gut. They had eroded her into nothing.

At the return to his rooms at the Forest House, he halted. The guards on duty were not his favoured ones, though of course he was subtle in his favour, but these were his father’s loyal dogs. The door was ajar which meant he had a visitor.

Eris showed no outward signs that this displeased him; he’d learned long ago never to let a single crack show in his armour. His father’s sentries were his birds and spiders, carrying songs and weaving webs on his behalf.

As bold as brass, Beron Vanserra rifled through the paperwork on Eris’ desk. Some might leaf through carefully to leave no traces that they had been there. Not Beron, he ensured his presence was felt. He had to remind all of his court that he had the utmost right to do whatever he pleased whenever he wished.

‘You rearranged a meeting with Wode.’

His father did not turn from the desk that he continued nosing through, no acknowledgement that he cared. The sentries wouldn’t have allowed anybody else to enter save for Eris.

‘The bridge in Altor Hay is undergoing reconstruction. Progress is slow, my lord.’

Beron turned to him then, brown eyes lacking any warmth. ‘It required your eye? I had not known you to be a labourer.’

Eris smiled tightly. ‘It required my encouragement, my lord. The bridge will be in use by the morning.’

It was an easy lie. Altor Hay was a village too far for Beron to care about but it connected two farming towns. As long as their taxes came in on time and in full, he would leave the village alone. Eris had many of his own males there with their families. They were his loyalists; a stronghold in the West close to the border to the Summer Court. Eris helped the rumours that the lesser fae were simple savages to keep his father content, but females that he and Orla assisted could reside there safely or continue onto Summer. If any of his father’s males were sent, the villagers would back up any lie, claiming Eris had been there throughout the day commanding them.

‘Come.’

Beron departed, the sentries flanking him down the corridor with Eris leaving a good distance behind them. They diverted course down a thin corridor that never seemed to warm, the stone always felt damp. Eris’ stomach gave its involuntary lurch once he realised where they were headed.

Down, down, down they went into the cellars running beneath the Forest House. He’d had his first drink here, sneaking down with friends to sip his father’s wine from the vast barrels. First kiss with a timid servant who’d blushed as much as he had when their lips had fumbled together. All of them were dead. Slain on Beron’s orders for minor indiscretions. It was a way to isolate Eris as much as any.

Manacles hung from the ceiling. They were taut under the weight of the male hanging from them. Phelan, the fourth born child of Beron Vanserra, knew better than to react at the sight of his high lord entering. Sentries cut his shirt away, leaving him bare chested for the interrogation.

Beron was sadistic and cruel, but he was efficient too. Eris needed no instruction to retrieve the bullwhip while his father began the interrogation. It was a well-practised dance. Each brother had hurt the others on their father’s orders in a sick determination to prove their obedience to him rather than solidarity with each other. Eris could refuse but Uther would be fetched instead and Eris would find himself hanging beside Phelan for the same treatment.

Each crack of the whip echoed in the underground chamber. Beron only ever spoke during these moments to ask quiet questions – and they were more unnerving that way. It was rare he ever raised his voice. He had no need to.

He questioned his son on the rumours of him cavorting with a lesser fae female. Eris had spread the lie for two reasons; he knew the scandal of Lucien choosing a lesser fae still incensed Beron – and Uther was too over friendly with females. It had been easy to believe. Guilt no longer plagued Eris. Beron had turned them all into villains. Uther likely had slept with lesser fae, likely had hurt them more than pleasured them. None of the Vanserra males were good. Their father had ensured they couldn’t be.

Uther denied it all, no matter how bloody his back was. He could barely speak, barely breathe through the pain, but he still managed to deny Beron’s words. Even Eris’ arm ached from raising the whip above his head and lashing it down upon Uther’s back.

At the signal, the sentries released Uther onto the stone floor. He managed to crawl to his knees and dip his head in submission. The angry lashes bleeding ruby ribbons down his torso.

‘You did well, Phelan. You may go.’

The breaths he took were ragged, but he managed to say, ‘Thank you, my lord.’

The title of high lord was revered by Beron whereas father was reviled. All of his sons knew better than to refer to him as their father lest they wanted to invoke his ire. He was their high lord. The fact that he had sired them was inconsequential.

Servants were called for to scrub the floor clean of the blood despite the late hour. Eris kept his face blank, unfeeling, as they worked. He knew his own investigation was still ongoing; Beron’s eyes flitting to him often. It was his lie that had his brother bleeding and in chains, but Eris didn't like his brother enough to care.

‘Was there proof, my lord?’

Beron shook his head. ‘I wanted to see if he was weak enough to confess simply to end his punishment. For once, my son has proved me wrong.’

@owllover123 @rarephloxes

#a court of tangled flames #surprise! i managed to write this evening! #neris

[xspilltheteapleasex]

Life Is In The Souls of Birds

A Poem by xspilltheteapleasex

My Main Masterlist

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶

My Poetry & Art Masterlist

A day as ordinary as any other can be full of beautiful and curious little things,

Moments that bring joy and peace like this one can be remembered for a lifetime,

But it only takes a second for things to change and fade away, no matter how hard you cling,

Everything will have its chance at life and its chance to pass at the right time.

Anyone can do anything, and anyone can take away the chance for something,

Maybe the chance at blossoming into a beautiful flower or the chance for dedication to commit,

Taking away a moment of joy and peace leading to destroying the beauty of life like a bombing,

So I think it would be best, yes, very much so,

It would be best if you put that back where you found it.

A little birdie with its black feathers sleek and smooth,

Glistening under the sun with little sparkles every time it turns his head,

The knight in shining armor adorning a vibrant red splotch with meaning of sleuth,

Jumping along the many tree branches of his mighty kingdom bred.

Birdies that twitter and flutter about with a song in their mouths,

All of this can be taking away if you steal their wings and souls,

No care in the world, they didn't ask for this, can you at least put them in the ground,

You shouldn’t be in charge of what jewels your body, for only God is at the controls.

Those many tree branches belong to a fortress of solitude,

A tree who upholds the very breath of every living thing we call life,

Weaving roots throughout the earth that no one can allude,

Whom some call home, a place to escape the fear of strife.

Billions upon billions of fortresses are destroyed each year,

No one gives another thought to saving their much needed lives,

Am I the only one seeing how our situation is this horrific and severe,

Can we not just follow the will our God gave us to abide?

Geese fly overhead of all the forest and under the misty clouds,

Loud as can be to announce their grateful presence,

They never break formation and they never stop making sound,

One day they will leave again, but I know they will once again show their luminescence.

Pillows are what I use to lower my head and have magnificent dreams of love,

Cushioning cotton or memory foam will do just fine for me to close my eyes,

So why do we need the best pillow that leave geese in cold blood,

God made these noble creatures for our kind to take care of with our hearts.

The wondrous lake is where the geese lay the wings and take a rest,

Making ever so little creases in this body of water and leaving behind traces of beautiful down,

Basking in the vigorous fountain of never ending droplets which it has expressed,

Our beautiful lake is my queen with a solid rim atop her head as a glorious crown.

Water is the something that every living thing needs in his temple of a body,

It provides an oasis for creatures and plants alike,

Yet we still feel the need to dump our garbage into the sea and turn it snotty,

Polluting the quality, which makes for a great realization of your throat being hit with a spike.

A rim holds place for little children to rest their little feet and have some fun and play,

Pitter-patter on the rim of rocks holding the foundation for centuries,

Just an excuse needed only for me to gaze upon such beauty of life, whom am I to say,

Rocks can be eroded with time, but etched forever are our wonderful memories.

Smoke and ashes rise above our children heads and strikes fear into their eyes,

Take care of your children and hold them tight as can be,

Your neighbor just started a fire that grows and grows as implied,

It started from his mouth but spread into the size of the northern sea.

My gaze is interrupted by an alarming siren warning of swiftness,

Quick must the siren's owner reach the fearful destination,

Praying with my hand and in my heart, with hope this lifts us,

God, oh please, please God, please help those of your own creation.

Taking the wings and soul of a little birdie is taking a life,

Chopping billions of trees is destroying the earth's fortress,

Starting fires in your mouths and littering them to the ground is the same as a thousand knives,

Can't you just stop for once, leave it, and support us?

Anyone can do anything, and anyone can take away the chance for something,

Maybe the chance at blossoming into a beautiful flower or the chance for dedication to commit,

Taking away a moment of joy and peace leading to destroying the beauty of life like a bombing,

So I think it would be best, yes, very much so,

It would be best if you put that back where you found it.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶

#poetry #original poem #poem #poems and poetry #poems on tumblr #poetic #words words words #naturecore #nature #forest #trees #landscape #mountains #grass #flowers #birds #wild birds #geese #canadian geese #wild geese #ducks and geese #bird #flame #smoker #earth #middle earth #night sky #enviroment art #enviromental #environment

[masterwords]

That bingo card definitely is something... very fitting for your fics!

I know it's a classic at this point but honestly you can't ever go wrong with it — Hotch + childhood trauma, pretty please?

Summary: Hotch enlists his friends to help him spy on his dad with disastrous results. (Based on things said in 02x19 - Ashes & Dust)

Words: 4.4k

Pairings: None

Warnings: infidelity, religion (christianity), swearing, drinking, food, cancer

Bingo Square Filled: @badthingshappenbingo Childhood Trauma (marked bingo card under cut for post size!)

Read on AO3: how it feels to have a heartbeat

Send me an ask if you'd like to request one of the open spaces on my card! It can be found HERE or at the bottom of this post.

****

There was an inflatable pool that sat only a few feet away from a brick and river rock fire pit. Right in the middle of a sort of grassy but mostly dirt lawn. Aaron and Max were lying on the paltry grass beside the pool, their bare feet sore and blistered after a day spent picking fruit in the orchard that takes up the back few acres of Aaron's family property. It's not well-maintained anymore, sort of twisted together in places with dead trees scattered about but it feeds the town well in summer. They never have minded people wandering up and picking something for themselves. The orchard was planted by his grandfather years before his mother was born. He had money to burn, and he was known to be a little eccentric, so a hobby farm suited him just fine. First it was a goat and a donkey and a few apple trees at the edge of the property, and then it became rows of apple trees and another donkey. Then peaches and some pigs. Before long it was less of a hobby and more of a job. His grandmother hated it, and when he'd passed away, she let it all go. Now the house belonged to his parents, and they sprayed the trees but kept no other remnants of the hobby farm days.

Still, the town loves the fruit trees. Mrs. Hutchison likes to bake pies and she'll take a whole tree worth of apples, enough to spend days in her kitchen, and she always brings at least two pies by the Hotchner house in thanks. Sometimes three if her haul was particularly good. Aaron can eat an entire one by himself, and she makes sure he gets one. “Far too thin...” she'll tell him, shoving the pie at his chest. “Just put a fork in it and dig in.” He's never had a particularly powerful sweet tooth but he'd do just about anything for one of her pies.

That was how he got started picking the apples. One summer, she'd had some kind of a surgery and couldn't come get any so he took it upon himself. There were plenty of bee stings and scraped knuckles before he was satisfied, but he managed. And though the pies were late, she gave him one special when she was able to make them.

What people don't pick themselves, Aaron and Haley and Jessica would lazily pick and try to sell down at the farmer's market. Just kids, they weren't very thorough and instead of paying for a stand they just gave the organizers a box of whatever fruits and vegetables they'd like. Some sort of shabby bartering system, and while Jess and Haley thought it was really cool and old timey, Aaron knew his mother had practically donated the land they set the market up on to them so really...there wouldn't have been any argument if the kids just set up. Aaron liked to keep the extent of his money as quiet as he could. Especially from his friends.

All of the money they made was put into some high interest bank account Jessica set up for Sean...maybe for college or something after. Jessica loved that kid to the ends of the earth and when they couldn't agree on where to put the money (as if it was more than $20 a week), she made the decision for them. Aaron agreed after giving it some thought, and Haley really didn't care it turned out. She just had fun with them. She was glad to be included for once. In any case, Aaron knew he already had scholarships lined up and he knew for a fact there was a hefty trust fund in his name for when he turned 21. He wasn't so sure Sean got the same treatment, times had changed after he was born. They no longer lived in the land of plenty. They came from old money, but that well was running dry. And over the last few months, their father had started acting strange. Aaron was always vaguely concerned about the future, he couldn't help it, but these days it almost consumed his every thought. Sean was so little.

“Did you sign up for drama class?” Aaron asked, wiggling his toes in the icy water. He knew that Max had his meeting with their grade level counselor earlier that day to set his schedule for senior year. Max hadn't lived there long and needed a few extra credits in order to graduate...he'd be taking a few summer school classes to make them up later. Max sighed.

“Yeah. I still don't think I'll be any good. It's nice you want me in your class and all but I'm gonna stink.”

“Easy elective credits.”

They met out in the orchard. Max was the new kid in school right at the end of the year. He was working for Aaron's mom, spraying for bugs and pruning the trees for some extra money though Aaron wasn't sure his mom paid even remotely fairly. His long hair, dirty blonde, was pulled up on the top of his head in a messy knot and his face was filthy. Aaron's first thought was that he looked like Puck stepped right out of A Midsummer Night's Dream and into his orchard, but these were thoughts better kept off of his lips. That didn't seem like the type of thing anyone but Aaron would find remotely flattering. But the thing was...

He was also gorgeous. And Aaron temporarily lost the ability to speak when they first came face to face. “I'm not stealing!” he called, craning his entire body to the side to peer at Aaron through the gnarled trees. Aaron swallowed and nodded.

“No, I know...my mom sent me out here to check on you. See if you wanted some lunch. She's making apple butter sandwiches.”

Max wasted no time in picking back up his pruning shears. Like he was already bored of Aaron's presence. “Nah. I'm good. I been drinkin' outta the hose.”

That was it. Aaron decided he liked Max right then. Max who just didn't give a shit. He didn't meet many people like that. Between the kids in his classes and the people his parents had over, everyone gave an abundance of shits. About everything. Politics, grades, him and his life choices. Money. He was tired of it.

So he started walking to Max's place after finishing his homework, or his morning chores, or filing at his father's office. Max's family rented three lots at the trailer park down by the creek not far from Aaron's house. Just down the road, or if you were a 17 year old boy, you didn't mind wading through the creek and wandering through the field until you reached the orchard. They'd worn their own path that snaked between the trees over the last few months. That period of time when you meet someone new and you become sort of addicted to their presence in your life and feel dull and gray without them. Aaron wandered through that orchard more over the summer than he had in his entire life.

He'd never even set foot in the trailer park and he'd lived at its border for his entire existence. Max's dad moved them around a lot, his mother having left them when he was a baby because she didn't want to get married and they'd conceived out of wedlock. Max's dad was a traveling preacher, they would pitch up in a town that needed someone to fill in at just about any church until they found someone permanent and she'd wandered off into the mist leaving him with a screaming baby in his arms. That was the way Max always pictured it anyway. Reality was far less dramatic. She told his father right away that she would carry the baby to term and she loved them both very much but she simply wasn't ready for this and off she went. He never held it against her. It was God's will.

Max dreamed of things he would never experience. He talked about things like dragonfruit with stars in his eyes and if you closed your eyes and listened to him ramble on and on about Woodstock in '69 you might really believe he'd been there. He could sing every word to every song by The Mamas and Papas and The Beastie Boys and you would never know which one he preferred. He just loved...everything.

Aaron looked at him and knew he wasn't meant to be around forever. He remembered someone talking about James Dean once and saying live fast die young. You just got those feelings about people. They had no patience, didn't want to wait until they were 80 to see or do something they could grasp at 16. But he was so fucking present now that it didn't matter that much. Aaron could look into his own future, as hopeless as he felt some days, and see a suit and a tie and maybe even a family if he was having a good day. He worried over his future all the time. But he couldn't read Max.

Max was just...now. Max was not future and that saddened him deeply though he tried not to let it.

“I think my dad's cheating on my mom...” Aaron drawled, adjusting his hips against the crispy already overcooked grass and squinted into the blue sky. Fluffy clouds moved overhead and if he was with Sean right now, they might try to find shapes but Aaron was always lying...just making shit up...he'd lost the ability to see shapes. “It's a fluffy cloud, and look there is another...cloud...” Max could see them. Just ten minutes prior he'd said he'd seen people having sex. Aaron didn't bother to open his eyes for that one. It was either the truth but it was real people in a window (not clouds) or it was a lie and Max would make fun of him for wanting to look. Either way, he feigned disinterest.

“You just figuring this out? You really ain't no Sherlock Holmes...”

“No, I just...I've been thinking about it a while and I think I wanna see for myself.” He hoisted himself up on his elbows and turned his head toward Max, squinting into the harsh afternoon sunlight. “Would you come with me?”

“Where?”

“I dunno. Out. Following him I guess. He pretends like he's working, says he has all these client meetings, but he's lying...I do his filing, it's almost nothing right now. He doesn't have any active cases. So where's he going?”

Max sat upright and regarded Aaron more seriously than he ever had. Wisdom was about to spill out from between those perfect peach lips and Aaron wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. “And no matter what you find...you're okay with it? Cos here's the thing...I seen plenty of people my dad's had in his office cryin' over finding out something awful they weren't prepared for. Infidelity bein' the least troubling of the things, Aaron. You get me? All's I'm sayin' is that you think one thing but you might find out somethin' else and you gotta be ready for anything...”

Aaron huffed and folded his arms over his chest, curling around himself like there was a chill in the air suddenly. He couldn't imagine what he'd find out that could be worse than his father being in love with someone that wasn't his mom. It would be the ultimate sin from a man who did little else. “I don't care. I want to know.”

“What'll you do with the information once you have it?”

“I don't know Max. Confront him? Punch his lights out? Tell my mom? I don't fucking know I just...I need to know what he's doing.”

“Your mom's no dummy. If he's steppin' out on her, I guarantee she knows. But okay. I'm in.”

Aaron reached out and punched him square in the shoulder, rolling his eyes. He didn't appreciate the grilling when he knew damn well that Max was going to do it anyway. It was one of those things he might come to regret later, in fact he was sure of it, but he pushed it out of his mind right away. They were going to follow his dad in the morning and see what he was really up to. What else did they have to do with their long summer days? They needed something to keep them entertained.

He would regret every single one of those misguided thoughts.

The first blow to their plan came when they couldn't wrangle Haley or Jessica into their mission, at least not in the morning. Jessica was doing some summer school class credit so she could lead the Model UN group the next year...Haley had been both shocked and appalled that Jessica even wanted to do that, let alone be so motivated to ruin her summer over it. She had a few history and geography things to nail down before she could rule that club with an iron fist. She'd also toyed with running for student office...just for shits and giggles. A campaign would give her something to do. Posters to make and speeches to write. “Vote Brooks for Less Books” was her working slogan...Haley called her sister a moron. “You're the smartest kid in your entire class and you act like such an airhead.” Jessica only smiled at that. So, she was out, but her afternoon was free and she was very interested in helping them sleuth around town even if she was more than a little worried about how Aaron would handle any of the possible outcomes. She already had feelings about what they'd find and it wasn't at all what Aaron was suspicious of. She'd been keeping some secrets over the last few months.

Haley flat out said no. “I won't spy on your father no matter how gross he's being.” She also had a date with her boyfriend Adam and the public pool. She was positively booked up. “Be careful though, okay? Don't get hurt.”

Following the senior Hotchner around town turned out to be relatively easy. He wasn't hiding. What was worse, the longer the day dragged on, the more apparent it was that a mistress wasn't what he was hiding. It was something far more sinister, and Max's words rang painfully in Aaron's ears as he watched his father stride out into the afternoon sunlight and into his vehicle. The sign on the building had a few names on it, gold lettering against black iron. Reading it sent chills up Aaron's spine.

The building was a small ramshackle office building that housed a tax lawyer, a small dentist's office and an oncologist. Aaron knew without having to ask which office his father was coming from. By the looks of it, and the way he stepped back a little to give Aaron some space, Max did too. The moment was volatile and felt nearly endless until finally Aaron stepped back and began walking quickly the direction his father's car had gone in. He was only a few blocks away at a stop light. Aaron was fast, he could catch him if he wanted to. Pound on that passenger window, bang his fists and rage at him. If he wanted to.

“No, Aaron, don't!”

“He's DYING and he didn't even TELL US.”

His rage was palpable, and Max reached out to stop him, to tug at the back of his sweat soakded t-shirt. He might have ripped it if he hadn't let it go. “Aaron, now isn't the time! Please come back!”

Aaron did finally stop when his father's car disappeared down some side street, and then he just stood there like a statue. Lost in shred of time. Flickering in and out of consciousness. He thought he might pass out, or run away. Either one was a viable option and not much existed in between. “Come on, let's go back to my place. It's too fuckin' hot, we can get in the creek and I think I got some hot dogs in my fridge...we can find some good sticks and roast 'em.”

“I'm not eating meat right now,” Jessica said, appearing out of nowhere. Like she always did.

Max laughed. “Protest?”

Jessica shrugged. “Sure.” She was forever trying new things, eager to figure herself out now before any of it really mattered. Going meatless during the school year had been hard, she liked the school meatloaf days, but in summer it was easier. She could test it out. Giving up hot dogs was easy. “So what's the scoop? Any dirty little secrets unearthed?”

All the color drained from Max's face and he shot her a glare that told her to shut the fuck up immediately. “What?” she asked, furrowing her brow. Subtlety was not in her wheelhouse. The sun caught her curly lion's mane at just the right angle and nearly blinded Max with its brightness. Couldn't be a halo, this chick was no angel. They'd been skinny dipping at their favorite little watering hole enough times to know that. She was the only girl in their grade with a tattoo.

“We can talk at my place, not here. Come on.”

Her demeanor remained that same incredulous half-smiling sarcastic way she always had, and then when the soft slump of Aaron's shoulders and his silence finally struck her she changed immediately. Everything about her softened and she approached him, placing one hand on his forearm gently and looking up at him. “Aaron?”

“There isn't another woman. He's sick, Jess. Really sick...”

“Oh...oh Aaron...”

They didn't speak for the entire walk back to Max's place. It wasn't a slow walk, they sort of fell in line with whatever pace Aaron chose. He was leading them, like always. He was a natural leader, even if he lacked the confidence sometimes to believe it. When they got back, Aaron kicked out of his sneakers and walked into the water without a word. He could think better with the rush of the creek against his knees. It was ice cold, so cold his skin burned. It was like his body shut down, all sensory input stopped and it was just his mind left running the show.

“Is he okay?” Jess asked, and Max shrugged helplessly. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so helpless and yeah...they hadn't known eachother long but she knew him. She knew him very well. He always had something smart to say. He was the only kid she knew who had spent time in Morocco, Uganda, Venezuela...you name it, he'd been there. When his father wasn't finding jobs at needy churches he was volunteering his family for mission trips that required a lot of shots and a lot of language lessons in order to undertake. Max knew things.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Well...that's bad...” she said quietly, until she finally couldn't take it anymore and kicked her own shoes off with a little puffing sound. If he wasn't going to talk and he wasn't going to send her any telepathic messages, she'd have to just go stand next to him and hope for the best. Max followed her lead, as he so often did. Jess could probably get him to go anywhere or do anything. He was infatuated with her absurdity and never wanted to miss a single minute of the insanity that flew out of her mouth. If that meant wandering out into the ice cold creek so be it.

“Aaron...” she said as they flanked him, pressed in on him from both sides. “Talk to us.”

“Nothing to say.” He said it so quietly it almost got lost on the rush of the current. Stolen by the crickets coming out to let them know that day was fading. Soon the symphony of frogs would begin from somewhere up in the woods that butted up to Aaron's house on the other side, they could traipse through the creek and eventually find where the chorus began. Converge on their frog friends and sing along. “I don't even care.”

“Looks like you care an awful lot...” Jess said softly and it was immediately the wrong thing. He turned to her with that desperate look on his face and sparks ignited in his honey eyes. “I'm sorry. That's not...I just meant that I'm here for you. You know...if you do care.”

“Thanks.” That was it. He didn't need to be told she was there, she never left his side. She was always finding ways to be in his space. Babysitting Sean was her newest venture. She got paid to babysit Sean but she probably thought she was babysitting him too. And that thought struck a chord. “Jess...did you know?”

She pursed her lips and shifted her feet on the stones, trying to find a comfortable place to stand with bare feet on jagged slippery rocks. This was a question she didn't want to answer. The problem was that there was no straight answer. He'd left a pill bottle on the kitchen counter a few nights back when she was watching Sean. Anti-nausea medication was all it was, nothing damning, but even to her that seemed strange. She'd ignored it and continued making the little tinfoil JiffyPop popcorn for Sean and forced the concern out of her mind. Aaron's father didn't want her sympathy and neither would Aaron. Anti-nausea medication could be for anything, but she'd watched three of her four grandparents wither away under cancer's attack and somehow in all the places that mattered she knew. “Jess?”

She slipped her hand inside of his and squeezed. “I'm sorry Aaron.”

“Don't be. He's an asshole.”

The words were at war with his demeanor and all at once his knees were giving out while he tried to drag himself back to the shore, just far enough that he could collapse there in the rocky mud and hug the earth to him. “He's an asshole.” His voice was less sure this time. Timid, afraid, small. He stayed hunched there for minutes while Jess and Max stood back, afraid to approach. He'd become a wounded animal. Just as likely to bite as he was to let you near.

It was Max that dared move first. Jess knew she was swimming in the putrid sea of betrayal, drowning there. He would see reason soon enough but that was a feeling for later, much later, and she knew better than to press him. You couldn't force Aaron Hotchner to do anything he didn't want to do. She whispered to Max that she was going to go, she was on dinner duty tonight anyway...no hot dogs roasted on an open spit for her. Probably sloppy joes or hamburger helper, her mom was no gourmet and she didn't keep much in the way of good ingredients on hand. And yeah, she was a shitty vegetarian. Check that one off the list.

Max walked past Aaron, dragging one hand along his back, fingers playing against the ridges of Aaron's spine. And then he was gone, whipping his pocket knife out to cut a few green twigs off of nearby bushes and skinning them while Aaron cried into the bank of their endless stream. At least Max hoped he was crying. If it wasn't crying, he didn't have a clue what it could be. Shoulders shaking, gasping breath, his back hunching and muscles coiled. Whatever it was, Aaron didn't want an audience.

While Aaron sat there, curled around himself, lost deep inside somewhere no one could follow, Max set to fixing their broken fire pit. It would break again when too many beers meant drunk teenagers kicking rocks in with exuberance. For now, he just needed it to hug the fire tight so he pressed the renegade rocks back into place until they stuck.

The smell of hot dogs, the cheap and salty red ones sold at the butcher's shop, was intoxicating. There was a sound, that crackle and pop of thin skin heated to its absolute limit and then the sizzle of grease jumping into the fire. That grabbed Aaron's attention and pulled him toward Max until he was sitting in the dirt against Max's leg, his cheek resting wearily against Max's thigh.

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. I hate him. I know he cheats on my mom...and what he does to us...he deserves it. But why...” he couldn't even finish it. Why do I care? Why am I so damn upset? Why can't I breathe? Max knew all of these things, and he reached down deep into the well his father had filled with wisdom far beyond his years. Reached into the well that the world had left in his belly and found exactly the right words.

“Because he's your father. Your parents bring you into the world, and they're sort of like your tether...as long as they're kicking around...kicking you around...you're not really ever gonna be alone. Then they take off, go to meet Saint Peter and you really know what it is to be alone. You know? They're up there in heaven or they're frying in the lake of fire but they're not here. No one will ever know you like they do.”

Aaron sniffled, and finally let out the tears that had been burning just beneath the surface disguised as anger and panic. “Even if they're shitheads, Aaron. You're allowed to be upset that he's sick, and you're allowed to hate him anyway.”

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?”

At that, Max laughed and patted him on the shoulder with one hand. Aaron turned his head and saw a stick waiting for him to grab with a perfectly roasted and flaming hot dog hanging dangerously off of the end. One wrong move and that sausage was going into the fire. He brought the flaming meat closer and blew it out, closed his eyes and sighed. The sigh came with more tears and no more words.

“That's not complicated. Just lips and assholes stuffed into some stomach lining, man. Ain't nothing complicated about that.”

#aaron hotchner #jessica brooks #original male character #criminal minds #teen hotch #bad things happen bingo #masterwords does bad things bingo

[sam-glade]

Find the Word Tag

Tagged by @talesofsorrowandofruin here. Thank you💜

Passing the tag gently to: @acertainmoshke @flock-from-the-void @j-1173 and leaving open tag. Your words are: flower, bush, tree, fruit.

My words were: dizzy, forward, ripple, snowball and various.

DIZZY

He shivered and forced his attention back to the living. Gullin was coming back to consciousness, his breathing less shallow now, although it still wheezed through his clenched teeth. Marta straightened up, kneeling by his side. “How… are you feeling?” she asked. She sounded exhausted. He took a few more breaths before managing an answer. “Dizzy— Blood loss?” He mumbled, barely comprehensible. “Yeah, a bit.”

FORWARD

“I was hoping to speak to a Sword. Please pardon me for being so forward, my prince, but you and your Adamant Guard might be the only ones in attendance. I understand that you are not on duty…” Nerves got the better of her there, and her speech turned into a haphazard ramble. Ianim relaxed, hoping to project an air of calm. He sipped his drink before saying: “What can a Sword help you with, Lady Alina?”

RIPPLE

He quenched his thirst, then filled the bucket he’d found hooked under the little roof over the well. He avoided looking at his reflection in the water’s surface — he shook his hands, so that it rippled. He knew how haggard he looked. His hair was an unkempt mess, and the patchy beard was almost an inch long by now. He didn’t want to see himself like this. It suits you. Or rather, the running animal you’ve become.

SNOWBALL (but I can give you snow x3 in two paragraphs)

The manor, with the smoke rising from the chimney, looked almost homely by now. The snow hid the threadbare sections of the roof and the lack of decorative plants on the flowerbeds. The Dragon Tree detracted attention from the peeling plaster. It was a sight to behold, with the frost shimmering on its blue leaves. When the Princeling went back to Siltwood, Varré gave into the temptation and touched the pearlescent bark, which was said to be as hard as a dragon’s scales. It was cool and smooth, smoother than the silvery trunks of ashes or grey alders. Then they tried breaking off a leaf, belatedly remembering that the juices of the tree were rumoured to burn like a dragon’s fire. It was a moot point; they didn’t even bend the leaf’s stem in their fingers. The lakes disappeared under the two-foot blanket of snow, their edges smoothed out, their surfaces frozen solid. To Varré, reeds looked very much like woundwort or mullein in this season, and they could tell where the lake’s shore was only by where the snow cover was too flat and unbroken. They’d honestly forgotten about the pond behind the orchard, since it was so small, and they walked out onto it until the ice creaked — and shadowstepped off of it post haste.

VARIOUS

There were few Swords who’d agree to spar with Gullin full-release. Fewer still would pose a challenge to him. Officers of various divisions would ask him to hurl his knives at them, to hone their reflexes and precision. He’d still have to hold himself back. If they reacted fast enough, they channelled Water, not Matter, so he had to be careful not to cut them. If they did heal from the cuts, their reaction time was lacking, and it forced him to slow down.

#days of dusk #find the word #tag game #writeblr #writeblr tag game #gifts of fate

[winterandwords]

Word Find Tag (tree, mirror, footstep, hand, hair AND blink, sun, green, fog, said)

I've had a couple of word find tags recently, so I'm going to combine them into one post and pass it on as an OPEN TAG. If you're seeing this and would like to take part, please @ me so I can see and share your post. Your words are home, street, city, and land.

Thank you @spuddlespud for giving me tree, mirror, footstep, hand, and hair, and @btranwrites for giving me blink, sun, green, fog, and said.

These are all from Bridge From Ashes...

TREE

The balcony outside is filled with kinds of trees and plants I’ve never seen before. We’re so high up, the only buildings visible are a handful of other towers that pierce the clouds. Then I look at Gillen and the view from the window doesn’t mean so much anymore.

MIRROR

My boss’s boss runs his hands across the slick red mess of my bare chest and holds up a gold-framed mirror. He tells me not to close my eyes. He tells me to look. He doesn’t know I can’t see myself anymore. He asks me what it feels like to be beautiful.

FOOTSTEP

By the time I get into the boundaries, close to home, I can feel him following me. I don’t speed up or slow down. Walking at the same steady pace, I know he’s matching my footsteps perfectly. And as fucked up as it is, I’m getting a kick out of it. Not even from the anticipation of what might come next. Just from the connection and how familiar it feels.

HAND

My thumbs hover over the switches on my knives and I’m sure he has one hand a fraction of a second away from a gun. Some things never change.

HAIR

I’m gone when my mouth floods with sick iron warmth and he grabs the front of my hair and throws my head back against the floor and the impact feels too far away and it doesn’t sound like enough and I’m gone.

BLINK

Through Gillen looking at me, me looking at him, I can feel his breath, his heartbeat, and he can feel mine. We blink together, a moment of simultaneous darkness that may as well not be darkness at all.

SUN

The sun’s starting to set and the sky blazes through shades of red and orange, painting the clouds like a memory of a dream. I could never get too settled in a place like this. Some of us are made to have our feet on the ground.

GREEN

The blue-green glare from a light outside filters through the gaps in the blinds and meets the orange glow from the clock somewhere near the centre of my awareness. I lie as still as I can, as still as death, staring at the ceiling and trying to release the tension holding me awake.

FOG MIST

Gillen pulls his coat tighter around himself and turns his collar against the night. He looks me up and down. “You’re cold.” I straighten my own coat and take a deep breath of the mist that hangs in the deserted street. “Not really.” “No,” he says. “Not like that.”

SAID

His teeth are sharp. I taste blood and reality melts into the space behind my eyelids, a hollow vortex. This isn’t like anything I’ve felt before and his arms may as well be chains. A minute or an eternity later, he pulls back, just enough to speak. “I said, what do you need?” I can’t let go of him. I don’t care where we are anymore or why we’re here. The next move belongs to me, completely on my terms, for whatever that’s worth. “You. I need you.” And it’s true. And I have no idea what to do with it.

#writeblr tags #word find tag #my writing #bridge from ashes #project frequency #wip snippet #writing wip #am writing

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

Don't forget! Inklings story in word press 😘

Thank you darling! Here we go! @inklings-challenge I know this isn't technically quite the challenge itself, but it's connected, and it talks about nature, and it's a prequel to my actual inklings challenge entry which I still need to edit so I can post the first scene.

I wrote this during October, but couldn't share it anywhere until the competition I wrote it for was done (it was commended!! I have a nice ceramic mug now :D).

an Inklings Prequel (untitled, suggestions for title are welcome)

Part One: Spring

It was spring, and the frost had melted from the plants, the last snow sliding off branches and tumbling into muddy drifts that warmed and turned to mush. Through the ground new shoots, fresh and green, pushed in their narrow, fragile endeavours. Many of them were crushed by the feet of workers, trudging to and from their homes, completely uncaring of the young abundant growth at their feet.

There was one in the crowd who sidestepped every tender shoot with a care that would seem inordinate to anyone else; but that was just the way she was. Her name was Hadassah, and spring was her least favourite season.

It was so full of change and growth that sometimes it left her dizzy and struggling to catch up with life, like an enormous wave that broke over her while others felt it only as a gentle swell. However, that did not mean that Hadassah was willing to punish the innocent grasses.

Some of them might turn out to be beautiful.

Part Two: Summer

It was summer, and some of the grasses had been crushed and flattened for good, dying brown stalks broken and torn from their moorings. Hadassah was the only one who took the time, while there was nobody else around, to sweep up the trampled grass and deposit it in the great firepit in the centre of town. Nobody ever remarked on it, but it did not stop her.

Occasionally there were fire warnings, and then Hadassah could feel the satisfaction of a job well done, for dry grass was not wanted on such hot days.

Some days she walked to and from work hiding her face with both hands, for it was bright enough to cause her actual anguish, and heat radiated off the ground at her feet and off the bodies of those who walked nearby. Hadassah longed for the darkness of her cloak, but it was too heavy, too hot for the painful temperature. Every so often she fainted, and they tossed cold water into her face and told her to get up again.

Part Three: Autumn

It was autumn, and the scorching heat had faded and left only lingering warmth, the grass dying off as everywhere cooled. The world burned in shades of red and gold and yellowing green, and the leaves were falling into great drifts that privileged seasonal workers swept up and tossed into the firepit. Hadassah welcomed the cessation of unbearable heat, and occasionally paused on her measured, consistent journey to close her eyes and feel the wind on her face. It was still too warm for her cloak, most days, but occasionally she picked it up and pulled it round her, just to feel its comforting embrace, and remember that winter was coming.

She had always found it a strange, restless time of year, a great upheaval as trees shed their painstakingly-grown leaves and animals prepared for winter. There was a great sense of change and difference. Even the smell of the air was different, and a little moist.

Hadassah did not like change, and it was autumn that was her second least favourite season. All the same, she found occasional leaves that struck her with their beauty or fragrance, and kept them until they grew withered, brown, and brittle enough to crunch into powder. Then she would throw them into the pale hearth fire and watch them burn to ash.

Part Four: Winter

It was winter, and the last of the leaves and grasses had been trampled into mush during the first frost. Various trees were heavy laden with fruit, which pleased Hadassah, for she only got fresh fruit during winter. At other times she had to find less expensive options to retain her health, but winter was when those fruits were available cheaply enough for her limited budget.

Hadassah took to wearing her cloak, although not every day until it was truly too cold to avoid freezing on her way to work. It was heavy and cumbersome. The brilliance of summer was well and truly gone by now, replaced by overcast skies and early sunsets. Ice formed delicate patterns that crunched under her boots after freezing sleet and a cold night. If she had known how to skate, she would have rejoiced that the lake froze.

She kept her hands tightly within her cloak, unable to bear the feeling of mittens yet avoiding frostbite. In the evening, while others were out collecting or chopping wood, she would prepare food and intermittently warm her fingers at the fire. Even so, they grew stiff and cold, and developed chilblains.

Still, there was a certain routine and sameness to winter that she appreciated, and for that reason it was her favourite season despite its drawbacks. It was not so cold that she could not last it out without outside assistance. Hadassah liked the comparative darkness of the season, and it was like the embrace she never asked for or initiated. She avoided touch, but the touch of the seasons was pleasant.

Then it grew warmer: and it was spring again.

#writing #my writing #inklings #inklings prequel #hadassah #if you find this elsewhere under another name - no you didn't #you TOTALLY didn't #you DIDN'T find me on another platform! lol #ask #personal #feedback welcome #fiction #the other prequel I wrote which isn't very good at all is gonna be given results in a week or two I think #I don't expect to get anywhere with it and if I did I would be embarrassed #because it's *that bad* #but i will not be sharing it #I do intend to revamp this #the other prequel (a fragile solace) #the actual story I still need to finish #and a third prequel I've planned but not written #and I plan whenever they're ready to publish them as one book bc I think the main story can be long enough to fill out a book #perhaps a small one but still #anyway those are my plans but it'll need work and all #but this story would be what i would expect to use as 'here is a sample of my writing in a self-contained piece' once i edit it #wrote this over two days lol and haven't edited it since #as i said feedback very welcome :D