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martianbugsbunny · 1 year

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We Are Mandalorians: Our Love Must Be Forged (An AxePaz Fic)—Chapter 5

Howdy! In celebration of my graduation from college, you get to have Chapter 5 of this fic a day early!!! This chapter is longer, and I love it, so enjoy!

The jetpack was completely out of fuel. Axe groaned, with equal parts frustration at his supplies and physical exhaustion. Paz was heavy, and he remained unresponsive, making him about as helpful to Axe’s efforts as a crate of stew meat would be. Axe’s shoulder was sore, and his entire body was starting to feel the low from loss of adrenaline.

Still, he dragged Paz to the edge of the water and slowly began to wade in, feeling for the bottom of each step before putting his foot down. He’d heard what had happened when Din Djarin came to bathe in these waters; falling in and pulling Paz into the depths with him would be incredibly counterintuitive.

Some Children of the Watch claimed that the spirit of Mandalore the Great had permeated these waters, and that was why they were living waters. Axe had never put much stock in the myths of the other sects, but Paz had probably grown up hearing and believing in that legend, and if it was true, then perhaps Mandalore the Great would be willing to breathe new life into his fallen son.

“I bathe you in the living waters of Mandalore,” Axe said, his voice echoing off the cavern walls before dissipating into the darkness. He laid Paz flat across one of the higher steps, so that his body was submerged in an inch or two of water. He scooped some of it up in his hands and poured it across Paz’s chestplate. “I invite you back into the land of the living.”

The spirit of Mandalore the Great had to be addressed with respect. Axe was actually quite good with the ritual words of Mandalorian customs, but he hadn’t spoken any in a long time. The longer he was a Nite Owl, and the more poisoned his thoughts of the Watch had become, the less he had associated with the private rites that had once governed his life; the simple prayers to the ancestors for success in battle, the nightly chants of gratitude. Those were things the Children of the Watch were better known for observing, though the number of Nite Owls who also observed them, or who at least had at one point, were not as low as general conception suggested.

For a long moment, the sound of the water lapping against the steps was the only noise in the cavern. Axe stared at Paz, waiting for any small sign of life.

Just when he was starting to feel disappointment creep in, Paz turned his head, his breathing slightly louder. Axe could feel, although he couldn’t see, Paz’s eyes roving over his face. “You saved me,” he said, and it sounded very much like a question. “You came back.”

“Yes, well….”

“Why didn’t you go after the others?” Paz asked between coughs. Exhaling was fine, but inhaling seemed to cause him pain; he tensed almost his entire body when he did it.

“Among them, I’m one Mandalorian of thirty. There’s little I could do for them without following your example—and to be honest with you, I don’t want to die down here.”

“I owe you a debt,” Paz said. “I will fight by your side until it is repaid.”

Axe sighed, squeezing his hands together to wring some of the water out of his gloves. “I hate to break it to you, but we’re stuck together for the time being debt or no debt. I don’t know where the others are, but if you had to take the sacrifice play they can’t help us anyway.”

“You’re right about that. They barely escaped the fight; they might have been caught after I….” Paz flicked his hand as though trying to push the thought away. “If they got captured after that, I’ll never forgive them,” he said.

Axe laughed weakly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” he agreed. “If you’re feeling able, we should get moving. I don’t know if we were tracked, but I don’t want to lead Imperials to this place. They don’t deserve to set foot here.”

It took Paz a minute or two to get up from the ground. He refused help, although when they started walking, he didn’t seem too irritated that Axe was sticking close by his side, just in case. “Why are you here alone?” Paz asked, after a moment of silent walking. “You were supposed to be bringing reinforcements for the main recon party.”

“There are no reinforcements coming,” Axe said bitterly. “The ships were gone. Their signal was still active; I got high enough to pick it up, but it’s too long range for me to tell where they went.”

“How did you find me?”

“All these questions,” Axe grumbled. “You’re starting to sound like a foundling.”

Paz snorted, turning to look directly at Axe. “Woves. The others would be easier to locate, just by sheer numbers. Beskar signature, life signs, whatever. How come you found me and not them?”

“I was actually trying to find them—through you, but how could I know you stayed behind?” Axe scolded himself for being so avoidant of the truth. He was a Mandalorian with nerves of beskar, but he was acting like a fool. “I followed the tracker on my knife,” he said.

Paz’s hand went to the hilt of it, holstered in his gauntlet. “Clever,” he said.

It took a bit for Axe to realize Paz wasn’t surprised that he had Axe’s vibroblade. When he did, he grabbed Paz by the elbow, coming to a standstill. Paz gave a full-body shudder, and Axe pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know you had a thing about touch—”

“It’s not that.” So the injuries hadn’t been completely healed. Well, that was to be expected.

“So you knew the whole time you didn’t have your knife?” Axe went on, refusing to lose his train of thought. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Paz countered. “And if you noticed we swapped, why shouldn’t I?”

Axe almost smiled, then remembered he wasn’t wearing his helmet. If he couldn’t see whether or not Paz was smiling, then he surely wasn’t going to give anything away himself. “It’s just—a lot of Mandalorians are incredibly possessive about weapons,” he said. “Myself included.”

“You fight well, for a Nite Owl. Bringing your blade into battle with me seemed right, somehow. And I supposed when you said nothing to me, you were also pleased with the trade.”

Now he did grin. “Pleased?” he repeated. “I didn’t know you cared.”

He was almost certain Paz was rolling his eyes. “You are a fine warrior, Axe Woves, and what’s more I’m sure you know it. There’s no need to gloat.”

For once, Axe was glad Paz could see his face: he didn’t want Paz to miss his self-assured grin. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said teasingly. “I saw what you did to those Imperials back there.” His tone became more serious. “That was very noble of you, Paz. You saved a lot of people. If any debts are owed, they are owed to you.”

#Paz Vizsla #axe woves #paxe #axepaz #axe x paz #paz x axe #the Mandalorian #mandalorian season 3 #rivals to lovers #fix it #nite owls #children of the watch #mandalore #the living waters #fic #martianbugsbunny writes fic #martianbugsbunny graduates college!#woo-hoo!

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themori-grimoire · 2 years

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Festivals & Holidays: Lughnasadh

Autumn draws near and with it, comes Lughnasadh.

Lughnasadh, pronounced “LOO-nah-sah” and known also as Lammas, is a Celtic festival that occurs from the 31st of July through into the 1st of August. It was observed fervently throughout Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man and marks the beginning of the harvest season.

Also called: Lúnasa (modern Irish), Lùnastal (Scottish Gaelic), Luanistyn (Manx Gaelic).

Lughnasadh is the celebration and ritual of the first harvest of fruit, wheat, and grain. This festival both acknowledges and celebrates the waning of light - Lughnasadh is the initiation of Winter preparation.

It is named for Lugh Lámhfada. and is in honour of his step-mother, Tailtiu who perished of exhaustion after clearing the fields of Ireland ready to be planted, sowed and seeded. Lughnasadh was originally a set of rituals, gatherings and funerary games (named Tailteann Games, or Áenach Tailteann) in honour of Tailtiu’s death and sacrifice.

✧ Symbols of Lughnasadh:

Wheat.

Corn.

Barely.

Oats.

Onions.

Grapes.

Straw dolls/straw bales.

Corn dolls.

Wood.

Tarot (strength).

✧ Colours of Lughnasadh:

Yellow.

Orange.

Red.

Violet.

Dark green.

Brown.

✧ Stones & Crystals of Lughnasadh:

Carnelian.

Cat’s Eye.

Citrine.

Marble.

Sale.

Granite.

Lodestone.

✧ Herbs of Lughnasadh:

Heather.

Blackberry.

Rose.

Sandalwood.

Goldenrod.

✧ Foods of Lughnasadh:

Bread.

Apples.

Corn.

Beer/Ale/Mead.

Grapes.

Onions.

Apricot.

Pear.

✧ ACTIVITIES FOR LUGHNASADH:

BAKING & COOKING: Sharing food is a good thing to do with each festival, especially those with agricultural ties. If you incorporate seasonal foods, and foods associated with the festival itself, it can be seen as an offering or as being done in honour of what you’re celebrating.

ENJOY NATURE: Lughnasadh is a time when the seasons are changing, so take this time to walk and enjoy the last that summer has to offer. Collect things whilst you walk to put on your altar if you have one.

AN ALTAR: if this is something you do, decorate your altar with some of the items mentioned in the list above. If you’re pagan and have a deity who corresponds with this holiday, leave an offering on your altar. In Lugh’s case, he is a god known for his skills in craftmanship and His ability to turn His hand to anything. He is also known for playing the harp, so anything you have crafted or that has taken skill to create will be well received by Him.

DECORATE: if you like, small decor changes can really get you in the mood and act as a celebratory act.

BONFIRES: Invite friends and/or family to a bonfire. Not only is Lughnasadh a celebration of waning light and of the god Lugh, it is a celebration of fire. Share plans to remove negative habits or influences from your life with your loved ones, burn representatives of negativity, drink to future prosperity and toast to Lugh.

Light a candle and do the same, if you cannot have a bonfire.

CRAFT: as mentioned before, Lugh is a god of craft and skill. Make something! Finish a project you’ve been putting off! If you don’t want to do something in Lugh’s name, you can make dolls out of corn (a very traditional activity) and they can be left on an altar if you have one, used as decoration or turned into a poppet.

ATHLETICISM: The funerary games of Lughnasadh were its primary reason for creation. To honour this, you can do something on a small scale, such as jogging or yoga, or going to the gym, if you are able.

TRADING: Bake some bread and give it to your friends/family/coven in exchange for herbs, or some candles! That’s just an idea. but you get the gist of it. Lots of trading took place at historic Lughnasadh celebrations, as they assembly for this season festival was always large.

FEASTING: Ties into the baking/cooking aspect, but using things that come from the first harvest is a good way to honour Lughnasadh and Tailtiu.

If you like my content and would like to help me keep providing free stuff for my gorgeous Ghoul Gang, you can tip your witch here: [Paypal].

#lughnasadh #paganism #pagan #pagan festivals #celtic festivals #the mori witch

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almustafatrust · 1 month

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Join Al Mustafa Trust Qurbani Donation Drive Today

Give the Gift of Joy This Eid al-Adha

Eid al-Adha is a time of sharing, caring, and giving thanks for the blessings we have received. In the spirit of this cherished tradition, we invite you to extend a hand of support to those in need through our Qurbani Donation Drive.

Your compassionate donations will directly fund the distribution of Qurbani meat to families facing hardship all around the world. The precious act of Qurbani is much more than a ritual — it’s a lifeline that brings joy and nourishment to those who need it most.

By participating in our donation drive, you will be at the heart of an initiative that transcends borders to share the blessings of Eid al-Adha. With your aid, we can guarantee that underserved communities can celebrate this sacred occasion with the respect and dignity they deserve.

Imagine the smiles, the contentment, and the gratitude that your contribution can bring. Your generosity toward this noble cause means the world to us and, most importantly, to the families that will sit down to a hearty, joyful Eid meal.

QURBANI 2024 CONTRIBUTIONS WILL START SOON

How Your Donation Makes an Impact

Ensures that vulnerable families receive nutritious Qurbani meat.

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Celebrates the true essence of Eid’s giving spirit.

PROPHETIC QURBANI This year, revive a sunnah of the Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) and reap unlimited rewards. To commemorate the sacrifice of Prophet Ibrahim (as), our Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) would offer two Qurbani’s — one for himself, and one on behalf of someone from his ummah who could not afford to do it themselves. At Al Mustafa Welfare Trust, we invite you to join us and revive this beautiful sunnah, making double the impact to those in need, and reaping double the rewards. The additional donation for Qurbani will mean that more impoverished communities be able to enjoy Eid, and also that more people will reap rewards of giving Qurbani because of you, and in turn giving you even greater reward.

AUTOMATE YOUR donation Split your donations across the blessed first 10 days of Dhul Hijjah and maximise the reward of these holy days. Prophet Muhammad (saw) said: “There are no days on which righteous deeds are more beloved to Allah than these ten days” (Bukhari), meaning the (first) ten days of Dhul-Hijjah. Schedule your donations daily and don’t miss giving to those in need on these special days.

Please note that once your donations are scheduled, their scheduled dates can not be changed

Take Action Now and Spread Happiness

Don’t wait to make a difference. Every moment counts, and every donation brings us closer to a world where no one goes hungry during Eid.

✨ Donate Now and help ensure a blessed and memorable Eid for families in need. ✨

Your contribution matters. Together, we can uphold the tenets of faith and compassion that define us. Join our Qurbani Donation Drive today and bring the joys of Eid to every table.

#Al Mustafa Trust #Qurbani Donation #donation qurbani #qurbani 2024

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the-clever-cupboard · 3 years

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13 Goals of a Witch

Know Yourself: Understand your thoughts and motivations and take stock of both your vices and virtues. Chose to define yourself, instead of having the world informing who you should be. Know Your Craft: Knowledge is not just obtained from books and teachers. Study and practice the craft; learn through your own experiences. Honor and celebrate; listen to nature. From your own theories and practices. Learn: Learning never ends. Look to books, look to nature, look within, and listen. Life is a journey and there will always be a new theory, technique, or idea from which to glean knowledge: stay teachable. Apply Knowledge with Wisdom: Use gained the wisdom to temper your action and to make informed decisions. Make your intentions clear and be ready to accept responsibility for any outcome.

Achieve Balance: A balanced life is a good one; Embrace opposites. All of our efforts cannot be settled on one aspect. Take time to care for our emotional, spiritual, and physical selves. Balance work with play; balance your diet and exercise and checkbook; magical and mundane intertwined: mental, physical, magical, and spiritual.

Keep Your Thoughts in Good Order: Thoughts manifest reality according to your intent and will before words even form. Magical energy is directed by intention and has an impact on all aspects of our lives: emotionally, mentally, spiritually, magically, physically.

Keep Your Words in Good Order: Words are bonds. They are verbalization of thought and carry power to both wound or reward. They should always be treated as such.

Celebrate Life: Existence on this planet is a gift and enjoy every breath. It is in acknowledging the little and big, the trials and triumphs, weeping and rejoicing, pleasure and sacrifice. Without the bad, there cannot be the good. Live life to the fullest!

Attune with the Cycles: Experience nature and understand that we are part of it, not apart from it. Notice as we move through the year and attune yourself to these movements. Follow the lunar cycle, celebrate the wheel. Recognize each season through growing and resting.

Breath and Eat Correctly: “Your body is a temple.” Strive to achieve optimal health. Breathing aids in raising energy, focus, and stress relief. Wholeness also comes from taking care of oneself physically. Eating a proper diet will help to make our bodies healthier and live longer. Health aids in magical working and make mundane tasks easier. Exercise the Body: Respect the body that is given and keep it in shape. Things will come easier along with extra confidence. A healthy body feels better both physically and emotionally. We live longer are less encumbered during mundane and magical activities.

Meditate: Good for the mind, body, and soul. More than just one form, it helps us form clarity, for both mundane and spiritual reasons as it quiets and centers the mind. It allows us to focus the thought and will, reduces stress, and helps with all tasks by being able to focus and think clearly.

Honor Deity: This is more important for those who work include a spiritual aspect in their practice: honor those deities through rituals and celebrations. Serve them well and perhaps, more importantly, be an honor to them through example. By honoring them, we also honor ourselves and humans. They are present in every molecule.

#book of shadows #grimoire #spells #wizard #mage #druid #familiar #magician #occultism #occult #ritual #witch tips #baby witch #witchblr #magick #goals

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jaigeye · 3 years

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DEATH & DYING: Mandalorian Funerary Practices, Burial, Remembrance & Grieving

"Mando'ade usually bury in mass graves anyway. We all become part of the manda. We don't need a headstone." / "Collective consciousness. Oversoul. We don't do heaven." ―Mirta Gev

In ancient Mandalorian religion: “Arasuum is the god of decadence and idle consumption, battled in the creation myth in the War of Life and Death by Kad Ha’rangir, the destroyer god of change and growth, a force of creative destruction. If to live is to adapt, then something that remains forever, eternal, must be constantly adapting, never stagnating. To remain the same is to perish.”

Metaphysical Understanding of Life & Afterlife

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la: “Not gone, merely marching far away.” - (Tribute to a dead comrade.)

This struggle between idleness and change was reflected in the ancient Mandalorian belief in the afterlife: existing as a plane of spiritual energy in constant conflict between stagnation and growth, every Mandalorian who perished was believed to join the army of the afterlife, defending their families that dwelled in the eternal, peaceful homestead. Mandalorians believed that this home beyond death was the only place they could truly reach a non-transitory existence.

The ancient gods were largely forgotten in contemporary times.

The concept of a literal afterlife waned, in favor of a belief in the Manda. The Manda was described as an oversoul, a collective consciousness, and the very essence of being Mandalorian.

To join with the Manda after death, a Mandalorian was required to be knowledgeable of their culture, and practice its tenets in their daily lives.

Practices: Funeral rites, Burial, & Cremation

Cremation:

The Mandalorian "kote kyr'am" or glory death was an event where Mandalorians honor their fallen warriors who died facing Jedi, or impossible odds.

This was done to ensure that their warrior’s spirit may join their ancestors. The body was burned on an elevated pyre.

Clan members would shout war-cries to the sky, and speak loudly of the dead’s great feats in life. This goodbye ceremony was a night of mournful celebration; drunken feasting, and brawling, was common. Telling stories about the deceased’s life was important.

It doesn’t matter what side a Mandalorian was fighting on, friend or foe; if one died in battle, they were due a warrior’s funeral.

Ashes are scattered & not kept.

Burial:

Mandalorians are pragmatic people. On Mandalore, most Mandalorians were buried as simply as possible within mass graves that had no markers.

Private, single-plot burials for the dead are uncommon.

Exceptions and Outliers:

Among nomadic communities of Mandalorians, those currently fighting a war, or those who live on planets unsuitable to the practice of mass burial, cremation may be the accepted burial method even if one did not die in battle. Sustaining a cemetery and transporting corpses en masse can present a great challenge.

Some highly placed individuals, such as Mand'alor, were offered the option of having a marked grave.

Boba Fett wished to just set the Slave I on autopilot and allow the vessel, carrying his body, to drift in space. After removing his father's remains from Geonosis, Boba Fett buried them on Mandalore.

A notable exception: “The helmet [of Fenn Shysa] was all he’d brought back. It was an apt memorial for a populist leader, to be commemorated in the same way as any ordinary Mandalorian.” - His helmet was displayed on a pedestal.

Philosophical Understanding of Death, Grieving & Remembrance

Philosophy:

Death is another step in the process of life. For those left behind, it offers the chance for change, growth, and adaptation to life without your loved one. For the dead, it is but another step in the path.

Remembrance:

"The armor I wear is five hundred years old. I reforged it to my liking, but the battles, the history, the blood all lives within it. And the same goes for every Mandalorian." "This armor is part of our identity. It makes us Mandalorians who we are." ―Sabine and Alrich Wren

The dead’s possessions, often their armor, are kept in memorial. If a full set of armor couldn't be recovered, it was commonplace to retrieve smaller parts such as helmets, gloves, or plates instead.

Beskar’gam is passed down bilineally. (A bilineal system is one in which two lines of descent, matrilineal and patrilineal, are both socially significant.)

Possessions have value. Jedi may value the metaphysical qualities of the universe, but Mandalorians see the physical as significant. The armor is a part of you. To pass down a part of you is a way to live on forever.

Even if the Beskar itself is melted down and reforged, the metal itself does not lose the power of its inheritance.

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. “I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” [Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.]

It was a Mandalorian custom to recite the names of loved ones and friends who have passed each night before sleep. This was a means of keeping their memory alive.

The uncertainty of life meant that most Mandalorians celebrated the time they had at every opportunity, taking part in communal singing, drinking, and enjoying time with family.

The concept of aay'han was a Mandalorian term that encompassed the joy of time spent with loved ones while remembering those who were no longer among the living, relatively similar to the Basic term "bittersweet".

Headcanons & Conclusions

Death is not demeaning - is not shameful.

Despair is something one must look in the eye.

In death, you become one with the masses. Whether cremated or buried in a mass plot, you become nameless, faceless. You don’t get a “Here lies...a good mother and friend..”. This is part of the point.

By giving descendants your Beskar, you will be remembered as a protector. They will be safe, thanks partially to you. This is enough.

The meaning of life is that it ends. Death is a creative motivator. What better way to avoid stagnation than to live while you can?

The living may get a tattoo or engrave a symbol on their Beskar that was important to the deceased, to remember them by.

The Mass Graves might be something more akin to an underground catacomb, so more can be added over time.

Children are buried with the same gravity and respect as Mand’alors and war heroes.

Death is known. It is respected and known as an arduous mental, physical, and emotional process, both for those who succumb to it and those left to remember. Among Mandalorians-- to whom arasuum, the act of never adapting, is a sort of spiritual death-- physical death is not the end, only another part of growing and changing.

- Any Mandalorian would be perfectly willing to ask, and be asked, what their own wishes for death are. Depending on their clan, home planet (or lack of) and condition of their life, they may prefer a certain type of burial or have specific requests. It’s not embarrassing or scary.

- Mandalorians do not swaddle the grieving in their sadness. They are allowed to feel it powerfully, vividly, but they are also given tasks-- expectations -- rituals and practices to follow, so they might find a sense of purpose in death.

- They do not believe in the practice of beautifying a body for viewing. The mere idea of modern American standards of burial being applied to Mandalorian corpses would most likely be seen as deeply sacrilegious! Using embalming methods and protective caskets would be seen as a futile attempt to ignore the reality- it would be seen as an act of avoidance.

- Mandalorian clans often gather around the dead to wash, dress, and speak to them before they are taken away to be buried or cremated. This process can take anywhere from hours to weeks. (Corpses are not an inherent health threat. They would know this.) Spending time with the body is powerful and helps to process grief. They do not see the body as a cursed, diseased object, but a vessel that once held their loved one.

People spend time with their mothers, their brothers in war, their children. One might spend time brushing the deceased’s hair, telling them stories.

Sociologically, Mandalorians are staunch believers in the idea that it takes a village to raise a child. They take it quite literally. A neighbor, clan member or acquaintances death may be taken just as seriously as the loss of a very close loved one.

On the war-torn planet of Mandalore, where even before the purges the unwelcoming, life-resistant desert overtook the landscape, the only places with much lush greenery are the areas that are fertilized by the mass graves of Mandalorian people. These places are regarded with gratitude and to damage them or wage fights in them is seen as an unforgivable act. Death can be restorative.

(anything above headcanons & conclusions is canon, all below is my own interpretation)

material i reference here:

Legacy of the Force: Sacrifice

Legacy of the Force: Revelation

Star Wars: The Old Republic: Knights of the Fallen Empire

General EU/SW Legends

Wookiepedia

Caitlin Doughty, From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death

Caitlin Doughty, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes & Other Lessons from the Crematory

#death tw #dying tw #funeral tw #burial tw #cremation tw #hi.#sw meta #mandalorians #the mandalorian #mandalorian culture #i want to be clear i just love this topic!!!!#i did NOT glean any of this information from any other existing cultures #i'd like to note however that the funeral pyre - which i picked up straight from #existing mando lore -- derives from viking..roman...hindu..and sikh burial practices #also among jains and buddhists.#anything above the headcanons and conclusions comes straight from canon #but id be happy to edit if theres something harmful either in my interpretation #or in canon notes that would be better left unmentioned altered or rephrased #this is mostly just me going wild about my interest in star wars + mandos + death LOL #but yes. enjoy. thank you #babygirl i will subject you to my interests #watch this get 3 notes like queen your interests are scaring the hoes

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queerbilly · 3 years

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🎃 Samhain Practices 🎃

I've always been a believer that you don't need to do fancy rituals or buy expensive tools to practice witchcraft. Hell, most of my tools come from thrift stores and the dollar store. I also apply this belief to my sabbath rituals.

There's many fun and cheap things you can do for Samhain. Some you may already do and not even know it's magic! Here I'll list a few of my favorites and why I do them. Feel free to reblog with your favorites as well! The more knowledge, the more power!

Bonfires

Ritual fires have been around for centuries upon centuries. Fire is such a unique thing. It represents death and rebirth. A powerful and essential element of life. I've always been drawn to fire, though I'm an libra, but I guess you can't have fire without air. Before i moved to the city, i would build up a small fire and enjoy it's warmth with friends and family and thank nature for all it's sacrifices that allows us to live. Now that I live in the bustling city, I'll have to stick with some nice scented candles.

Carving Pumpkins

I LOVE carving pumpkins. It's a super fun way to bond and get messy with your friends and family. I carve a pumpkin every year for Samhain. Picking the right pumpkin is so essential to me, it really has to speak to me. Weird? Yeah, I know. I think a lot of people do forget the history behind pumpkin carving and it's a very interesting story. It would make good conversation next time you carve a pumpkin with others.

Unfortunately, I tend to attract a lot of negative energy, not by choice of course. And being that Samhain is the time where the evil between life and death is the thinnest, I'd rather not bring home any unwanted and uninvited guest, if you get my drift. So carving pumpkins is another tactic I've learned to shoo away those pesky energies that love me so much.

Cleaning Headstones

The cemetery/graveyard is nothing to be afraid of. It's a place of rest and peace. What once was, is no longer. There are many holidays in all religions that celebrate the dead, I see no different with Samhain. While the veil is thin, show your appreciation and respect to those who have passed on by cleaning headstones and clearing rubbish for your local cemeteries. These spirits, and most definitely the maintenance crew, will thank you. Before you grab your soapy water and brushes, make sure you check in with your cemetery personnel and ask if it's ok. While ot is a kind gesture, some people would rather you leave headstones untouched, it shouldn't stop you from cleaning up any garbage though. Also, if you do clean headstones, please don't use harsh chemicals that will eat away at the stone or cause harm to any nearby foliage for plant life.

Family Dinners and Composting

So..I'm not great at cooking. I'm decent at baking but when it comes to the top of the stove, I have no clue what I'm doing. That's where my partner steps in. He's an amazing cook and if you've never had a cajun's cooking, you're missing out big time!

So while I'm busy making pies, cakes, and cookies, he's off cooking an assortment of soups, meats and fresh vegetables. Now I'm not a big meat eater, but his roast is to die for.

Family dinners are very special to me. I feel so close with people when I cook with them. There's so much love and effort that gets put into a meal when it means something to you. I usually take that time to be thankful for what I have and appreciate everything that goes into living life. Autumn is the time of year to harvest crops, share with others, and be thankful for your bounty.

I also like to start my composting for the next spring and summer during this time. I have a totem outside on my porch where we dump vegetable scraps, coffee grounds (because I'm a caffeine monster), egg shells, and all sorts of good stuff that can be turned into nutritious soil for your next planting season.

Practicing Divination

The veil between the living realm and the spirit world is at it's thinnest on Samhain. Communication with spirits becomes much easier since they don't need to use as much energy. I like to use this time to practice reading my tarot cards. Ask the questions again that you couldn't decipher a clear answer to before. Connect with spirits around you, learn about their past if they're willing. See what the future could have in store for you!

So these are a few of my favorite Samhain activities. Celebrating doesn't have to be elaborate or expensive, just have fun with it. Remember to be thankful and respect the earth!

#folk magic #witchcraft #witch #city witch #mountains #rocky mountains #witchcraft community #spells #autumn #desert witch #Samhain #Halloween #rituals

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ppgxrrblove · 3 years

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Halloween A.K.A Samhain, Don't celebrate This..!!

Just a little blog post here with important information that I need to reshare once again since tomorrow is Halloween basically Samhain and you might be wondering why I titled Halloween that? It ain't samhain those two are different "holidays" or you maybe one of those who realize welp that's truthful but who cares it's nothing bad because you maybe Satanist yourselves trying to hide the truth to get more kids into worshipping Satan to adults as well but let me first tell you the starting point before I crash my car xD.

First of all Halloween name was never that nor spooky day, or Hallows Eve it's real name is samhain an occult date that Satanist, witches, occult people like to worship Satan in which they basically do ritualistic acts that includes doing blood sacrifices, thats why you notice the obvious pattern of people disappearing to dying more on this "holiday", that's why they tell you to be careful, like honestly what type of fun, safe holiday specifically warns people's children to stay safe? Why? Well yes they are creeps out there but on this specific date a lot of them appear more then usually and it gets heavily demonically wicked. To further add on; what type of holiday doesn't allow adults to join in but get them to do parties instead where they get drunk, don't realize what occurs to them 100% of the time no matter where they are the alcohol already does damage to your health badly, but when this occurs adults in costumes tend to go missing even more on this holiday..very odd don't you think? Like really, if you sit there do your research to notice how many people go missing to dying on that day it is legit disturbing to see how badly large it is.

Yet back to the topic of only children doing these activities, which any occult member would deny this while some wouldn't care to state that it is the truth but I digress, the reason for the children being the core of the top of the cake is because children are inoccent their blood(can't believe i got to type this down cause it's legit uncomfortable..ugh) is ...ugh ripe for these freaks to use for their ritual, their souls is what makes it even better for their satanic rituals to go without a hitch.. its vomit worthy I know..its why the parents go to keep their children safer on samhain.

To continue on, the only want children not adults because we can defend ourselves easily by using objects to biting, etc sadly yes adults to die on samhain but they aren't use specifically much yet they still do use them for blood sacrifices, doing rituals, either way bad stuff for adults.

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

Now onto the next important topic, you maybe still skeptical, like hey love, ya know yes it's bad but we don't do any of these rituals at all, we don't even celebrate it all we wanna do is enjoy ourselves and party - well sorry to burst that bubble, but *yes* you are celebrating these occultic satanic samhain because in the activities that the fish basically the bait does to worship Satan by doing the ritual is trick-or-treating, and wearing the costume as well(note; like you can cosplay as any of these characters any date of the month don't be depressed about something so silly like this, like Halloween isn't the date to dress up only, there are other months to days, just this holiday itself is Satan worshipping)

So yes you are taking part on it, blindlessly and foolishly plus the decorating yes that's part of it too, if you want a further detail explanation to be more blunt easier then me just slam dunking it here is a video a sister has done breaking it down in a easy for you all to understand it;

youtube

..but yep..I will not be partaking in this garbage, I will instead be walking out, with my doggie, my sibling to watch leaves change colors, and i will have the Bible with me reading the word of the lord ♡♡♡ so if you wanna do the same i encourage to do so :3 get the legs moving sisters, and brothers to reading the Bible on a satanic date really helps those who are lost as well just allowing them to hear God's words in that date ...gosh i know it will smack the crap out of those demons, if you want to simply pray fasting do so.

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skaiatemple · 3 years

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May 22nd is the Festival of Doom!

If you follow as a practitioner of Pop Culture Paganism, a user of Homestuck inspired Chaos Magic, or just want to use your favorite series to inspire you throughout the year, Skaia Temple is your resource center!

Whether you want to just celebrate it on the day, use it as a date for empowered energy, integrate it into your more mundane celebrations, or just appreciate your favorite characters and concepts this month, we have suggestions for whatever path you want to take with us!

Read below the cut for a condensed idea & resource list for this month of Doom!

Aspect Centered Celebrate the Aspect in all its glory if you’re all about on celebrating the Festivals for exactly what they represent: The Aspect and all the traits associated with it.

“Doom-bound won’t fix you; they aren’t healers. They are commiserators, aware that sometimes the only thing you can do for a person is let them know that they are not alone in their suffering.”

Its believed the Doom-bound may be more prone to melancholy circumstances, but I think it’s more about the Doom-bound understanding that every day pain and not trying to bury it down or push it away. And also that they are a people who would know better than anyone that little things like simply understanding each other can be all you may need.

Perhaps you weren’t able to get the breather you needed last season, and-or, be active enough to make a real change the month before. Maybe you’re worried you’ll never get the hang of these things or whatever else is dogging you right now. Maybe it’s the mere notion of obstacles not yet found that gives you pause.

Maybe all you need to do is let out your anxieties with someone trusted, or you could even be that person for someone else.

This month, accept circumstances as they are, and accept yourself and your situations as imperfect, with the understanding that there is not such thing to be otherwise. And that that’s okay still.

Magical Inspiration If you want to use Homestuck concepts more abstractly and need some ideas for what brands of magic would work best for the season, if you have an Aspect or character-themed spell, feel free to send it in so it can be added to this section!

Doom is about understanding strife and that of those around you. An important tool in being able to empathize with those around you.

If you are lost, now is a great time for divination to see what life has in store for you next. If you feel unsafe- spells for protecting yourself are always good to invest in. Perhaps there are selfish people in your life who need a bit of karmic retribution, the sorrow they put out mirrored back to them for some healing humility.

If you’re experience, Shadow work might be whats healthiest for this time- looking deep inside yourself for the parts of you you’ve tucked away, and telling that entirely different version of yourself that Its Going To Be Alright.

Here is a special Tarot Spread inspired by the Aspect and Here are some ideas other Doom-y Rituals.

Integration Route For people in the broom closet who are too timid or anxious to celebrate the Festivals openly- you can always integrate the Aspects traits to fit in with the more common trends and holidays of the month. Not even Hussie is is Homestuck God, no one will mind!

Summer is a perfect time to be miserable! I mean-

Whatever you decide to do, you’re probably going to have lots of time to do it. The end of May gives us Memorial Day, a solemn time we can take to remember and honor anyone we’ve lost in life. Use this to connect with those you’ve lost or even just with the idea of losing. Take a chance to make peace with the subject.

Fandom Driven For if you’re not all about spirituality or routine and just want to enjoy going all-out with a beloved story & characters, you can honor the ones of this month by driving full-throttle on the fandom bandwagon.

Doom is an Aspect represented solely by the Captors. A couple of unlucky, bitter, grouchy and tormented boys. They without a doubt deserve better- but regardless of the lot they were dealt with in life, they each still kept doing what they could, and that always included sacrifice and care for their companions. Against injustice, stress, or just a shoulder to lean on- at least half of the time. Cherish the Doom aligned in your life this season, and appreciate the Captors as prime examples of that kind of pure paternal care.

Draw art, write fic, and post analysis’ for these poor, unfortunate, incel-passing Chad boys. And maybe have the empathy in your heart to give them a fucking break.

We hope you got some ideas for activities you can do with your friends or otherwise use to inspire and better yourself this month. Everyone plays the game of life differently, and everyone's beliefs are their own. Celebrate yourself as you see fit, and Thanks for Playing with Us.

~Mod Bee

#festivals #doom guide #doom aspect

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secludedsunflower · 3 years

Text

Cupcakes with tea candles

In which Lucas celebrates Yuugo's birthdays in the windmill, many kilometers away

!! TPN MANGA SPOILERS !!

[one-shot under cut]

"Mister Lucas, why do you have a candle placed next to one of the cupcakes we baked?" A young Oliver asked, looking up from where he was sitting with Zack and Paula eating cupcakes they helped some of the older children make.

Lucas looked back at them, as all the kids were now staring at him with questioning eyes. Oliver had been the first person to ever ask him that amongst the new arrivals and no one really knew the full reason besides the lady who had originally saved him many years ago. One of the eldest kids went over to hush Oliver but Lucas waved him away.

"It's fine Raphael. I might as well tell them now that they're finally calm and quiet for once." He said with a chuckle.

Raphael nodded before ushering the other kids in the windmill outside so they could enjoy their baked goods in the warm sunlight, giving Lucas privacy with the curious eleven-year-olds. As the door closed, Lucas turned to face the kids and relaxed somewhat.

"Back when I was about your age, I also had friends, just like you three right now." Lucas started, Oliver, Zack, and Paula all listening attentively.

"Well one day, I lost my friends. Though they are not with me now, I celebrate their birthday to remember them. Does that make sense?"

Oliver and Zack nodded but Paula still had a question.

"What do you mean by their birthday? You mentioned having friends, yet you used the singular form of the word birthday...? And you also do this in the springtime, what is that about?" She questioned.

Lucas hadn't even realized that. Oh god, how smart are these new plantation kids- they must've changed the curriculum-

"Oh, well, I was referencing only one person for this specific day... Today is their birthday and since they were such a good friend, I like to celebrate their birthday every year~ And the springtime reminds me of the time where I lost my friends, so I do this to remember them" Lucas responded, watching Paula nod in understanding yet still look at him with a sense of suspicion.

"That's really cool Mister Lucas! I hope that one day I'll be able to celebrate Oliver and Paula's birthdays at your age except hopefully with them by my side!" Zack exclaimed, earning a smile from all three in the room.

Later that night when all the kids were settled down and asleep, Lucas crept back to the main area where he had placed the cupcake and candle.

Taking out a box of matches from one of his pockets, Lucas struck the match against the igniter paper, creating a fire and causing the areas around the match light to glow with a mellow yellow color.

He brought the match over to the candle and lit it, before dropping the match in a nearby ashtray. He wasn't even sure why the windmill would have one but he was grateful for it nonetheless. Taking a seat in one of the higher chairs and faced the cupcake and candle.

"Yuugo, Happy 22nd birthday. I know I've said this multiple times in the past few years but I really hope you're alive and well. You know, we'd be in college right now according to all the books we read in the house. I wonder how that would've gone. Maybe if we lived normally in the human world, we'd still be with Dina and all the others.

Perhaps more kids have tried to escape and you're with them now in the bunker, helping them learn to survive and teaching them how not to make all the stupid mistakes we made at their age. As for me, I have plenty of children I'm teaching. Some of them even remind me of us at times. Three of the youngest remind me of how hopeful me, you and Dina were back then.

Eh, enough about me. We're getting old now. If you are alive, we're making history as two cattle kids surviving to adulthood. Maybe we'll get to reunite again someday. Hopefully, we will. I miss you so much. I hope you are staying safe."

Lucas doesn't even know why he still does this each year.

He knows the chances of Yuugo still being alive were slim. It was entirely possible he was eaten in the forest while escaping or he may have succumbed to the injuries he gained during the battle.

Perhaps he couldn't handle the survivor's guilt. He may have gone that route and the possibility of that terrified Lucas. He's seen it first hand too many times, some of the children even as young as 12. It was horrible, yet a completely valid factor.

It was stupid to partake in this annual tradition, but if anything had gotten Lucas through these 6 years, it was hope. So he kept doing this, no matter how impossible it gets as the year goes by

Lucas began to hum one of the birthday songs they would always sing at the bunker, and blew out the candle, leaving him sitting in the darkness. Staring at the cupcake and candle in the darkness, he almost laughs at the sad sight.

No matter, it was already getting late. He slid out of the chair and put away the candle and plate. There was a tiny door near the kitchen, just small enough to possibly fit a milk bottle. Lucas decides to just put the cupcake outside that door, to let it get eaten naturally... hopefully unlike what could've happened to Yuugo.

Closing that little door, Lucas put away everything, including the still smoking candle. He crept out of the room, unaware of the three small children who were watching him in hiding.

--- [huge timeskip to the human world, Oliver and Zack are 22, Paula is 21]

Today they had two cupcakes with two candles resting in front of one combined gravestone, the graves under them empty. Oliver, Zack, and Paula had a gravestone made for both Yuugo and Lucas once they were situated in the human world and they would visit it occasionally especially with how close it was to their apartments.

Over time they visited less frequently because they had all had moved to live near Emma half of the time and here the other half of the time but they had always made it a priority to be able to visit the gravestone at this time of the year.

Everyone else had already come to pay respects earlier, some of the Goldy Pond and Bunker kids staying behind for a bit before eventually leaving Oliver, Zack, and Paula alone to have their moment.

Ray and Pepe had baked the cupcakes this year and gave them to Paula before leaving with the Goldy Pond kids. Gillian had taken up the hobby of candlemaking with Anna so those two made the candles they were using today. It was a change to their normal tradition but they found that this made it more meaningful in a way.

It was all set up and Oliver, Zack, and Paula were just kinda standing there awkwardly. Zack started speaking, breaking the silence that had fallen among them.

"Well, this isn't really a birthday celebration huh-" he said with a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe that's ok though. At least we're doing something, just like you would do every year around the time the Goldy Pond battle happened for you and your friends Lucas."

Oliver was the next to speak, all of his formal speeches used up at the earlier visiting.

"Yeah. We miss you Lucas. You too Yuugo, just.... not as much." He joked, already imagining the face Yuugo would've made at him had he still been alive.

"But seriously, I hope whatever awaits you after death has been nice for both of you and that maybe you've reunited with everyone you've lost in your lives. I don't really know how death works but hopefully, you're happy and together."

Paula went next, sitting on the ground near the gravestone. Oliver and Zack followed suit.

"Lucas, we're just about as old as you were during our first year at Goldy Pond when we saw you do your little cupcake ritual for Yuugo," Paula started, the three of them beginning to remember that day.

"However, it was a birthday, not a death day like we have to do now. I remember Zack saying how he wished to live as long as you and celebrate our birthdays together. That's been happening and this year we finally reached that age, thanks to the sacrifices made by you and Mister Yuugo."

"Everyone has grown up well. We all miss you guys." Zack said, the three of them falling into silence just like before.

Oliver was the first to lean into the candles, with Zack and Paula following suit and blowing the candles together.

Notes:

no beta reader we die like men

i wrote this at 2am yesterday, slapped on a half-assed ending, and never decided to reread before posting. Oh boy. Good luck ig

#yuucas #tpn #tpn manga #tpn fanfic #fanfic #the promised neverland #lucas tpn #yuugo tpn #tpn yuugo #tpn lucas #yakusoku no neverland

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

Conversation

RP meme from the Baali Clanbook V2 from "Vampire: The Masquerade" Part 1 of 2

"But who are they? Why have they been so often misunderstood or misrepresented?"

"Are they all leatherclad Satanists and devil worshippers?"

"What are their goals?"

"Some of the stories may be outright fabrications. Some may have slivers of truth within them. Others still may be shockingly accurate."

"I have stolen you away from the safety of your life and thrown you to the wolves, so to speak."

"Don’t call after me for salvation."

"Pay close attention, as you lay on the damp stone of your oubliette. That scratching in the walls? Skittering things moving across the floor? These are to be your constant companions."

"Enjoy the torchlight, for it will vanish from you within the hour."

"I believe the absence of light makes all things clearer."

"It truly does bring one to a sense of nothingness."

"Do not fret, my dear, for you are to be part of something far larger and far older than yourself."

"Scream if you wish. They will consider it a courtesy."

"I know they hunger to meet you. . .and I hunger to give you over to them."

"There is always a bit of the truth in the most convincing of lies."

"These places were foci of great power, the sleeping deities below the ground saturating the very earth with foul energies."

"The words and names that had been spoken burned themselves into the souls of all those present and forever changed them."

"Small threads of the truth behind such power were revealed every so often, ending in tales of foul magics and dark gifts that could devour minds and twist perceptions."

"Those that were able-bodied were twisted and rent into weeping distortions of flesh. Those that were beautiful were turned into horrors."

"Those that survived were thrown into the well of sacrifice."

"To this day we have not discovered the truth of the matter. To this day, we do not care."

"Their hatred almost seems born of something more desperate. . .such as the desire to wipe away a mistake."

"You have to understand, accounts from this time are the vaguest of descriptions set in myth and the rare written tablet."

"There is power in a name. A power that flows from the named to the speaker."

"The mere mention or intonation of these names burns horrific knowledge into the soul of any who hear them."

"Playing with such powers unprepared always leads to ruin."

"They were lost. They were angry. They wanted to tear the world to its foundations."

"It remains a place of power that has drawn arcanists again and again."

"Centuries of ritual and sacrifice were given to lull it back into dormancy."

"We think it worked, but as plagues and contagion crawl across the world, how are we to know?"

"In my opinion. . .this is pure comedy gold."

"We took root. We spread our secrets as needed. We enslaved and sacrificed the weak. In short, we did what we always do."

"This arrangement worked in our favor for a time."

"Our influence spread, but so did the chance for conflict."

"As humans grew in strength, so did we."

"It is a role we are accustomed to, at this point, to be honest."

"Corrupting the faithful was a game of chicken."

"Could it be done beneath the very nose of the church?"

"Oh, what a time to be undead."

"Giving our souls to some minor demon or even an archdemon is an insult."

"We serve beings created before the god of Abraham or Lucifer’s fall."

"It is in our very blood to desire knowledge of what awaits over the next horizon."

"Explorers raided tombs and paraded the remains of ancient monarchs and dynasties to their homes. Mummies were unwrapped at social affairs and examined—and it was such a popular pastime that tourism companies in Egypt sent such delights to European countries to satisfy their morbid curiosities and struggled to fuel the growing trend."

"In the end, the humans enjoyed wallowing in their own bloodlust so much that they held World War II as a celebration just a few decades after the close of the first."

"We had extraordinarily little direct influence, of course, only giving the occasional gentle push now and again."

"We could coax just a bit more strength into our rites or could use their names to bind ever more powerful creatures."

"Still, nothing we could do or think of could ever compete with the horrors that humans delivered upon one another. Most shocked even us."

" We can feel the end in the air like an unspoken tension."

"A pragmatic approach, I think."

"They see the end coming and they want to hasten it."

"Over the decades, some of these plots have been run well while others have been disastrous."

"Those that survive are lucky."

"Selling the souls of others is fair game."

"Making deals with demons and devils is always a tricky subject."

"Besides, one cannot simply murder someone and claim the soul for a demon. The entire process is ritualized and sanctified. It is a drawn-out, multi-hour affair of torture, degradation, and befoulment. Once a soul has been properly broken down, it can be claimed by the demon it was offered to in exchange for small slivers of power."

"And the rest, well, they have their own agendas in mind."

"They cultivate skills to lead individuals into their own damnation."

"It is a path of rebellion against what it once meant to be human."

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay starters #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #World Of Darkness #vampire the masquerade #vtm #baali

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 121

Insert Winter Holiday is here, again!

I’m queuing this ahead of time, and I originally had a really cute message about the end of the year. Then, I realized what year this is and said “Yeah, nope. Not jinxing it, will not have the actual end of the world be my fault.”

I am going to leave it at this: thank you to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog for all your help with this story in 2020. Thank you to every single one of you who bombed by notes this year when you found The Miys. Thank you @janeshadow for talking me into getting off my rump and making the story easier to navigate.

Standing to my feet after putting the last dish in the oven, I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around my quarters. Despite the fact that we had forgone a tree this year for Insert Winter Holiday, there was a definite festive feeling as everyone packed themselves in as much as possible. Derek had clearly found my lights again, as they circled every public space in my quarters, including the kitchen. Furniture was pushed as far against the walls as possible, and everyone had been advised to bring their own cushion to sit on.

In the two celebrations since waking up on the Ark, dinner and gifts had largely been a smaller, more typical dinner-style affair. However, without my noticing, my family had grown exponentially since then, and this year finger foods passed from hand to hand as everyone relaxed and chatted. Charly, Tyche, and I took turns in the kitchen, with Hannah waving us all three to sit while she checked on something in the oven so that we could rest and enjoy ourselves, too.

“Where’s Derek?” Charly asked as she approached me to take her shift watching the last batch of food bake.

“He isn’t great with crowds, so he and Sam already came for lunch and to exchange gifts,” I explained, stroking the scarf they had given me. “They already left and took Mac with them.”

“Aww, they’re hogging the Christmas Cat… No fair!” she pouted comically.

“Eh, Mac’s not a fan of crowds either. Besides, I’m pretty sure someone gave him cheese - again - so I’d rather the little gas bomb not be here tonight.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed before popping me with a tea towel. “Go! Your turn to socialize and cuddle!”

I held up my hands in defeat before carefully picking my way around people. Coffey was gracious enough to take my hand and guide me around him and over to where Conor and Maverick were guarding the astonishingly huge pile of gifts. Arthur was nearby, arguing with Conor and trying to drag Simon into it every chance he could. The topic sounded like a rehash of the one regarding fortifications, only this time it was Fortification Redux: The Plant Edition. “We’ve already confirmed there are no megafauna on Von!” Arthur exclaimed wearily. “Not even vegetarians. Why would we need fortifications?”

I could tell Conor was just provoking him when he lazily waved a hand. “It’s psychological, to make people feel safe. Besides, agriculturally, it serves as double duty.”

“He has a point,” Simon conceded, wincing when Arthur turned a playful squint his direction. “He does!”

“Whatever,” Arthur surrendered with a mock-sulk. “Sophia…”

“You know where I stand on this argument, don’t even try it,” I laughed as I dropped in between my partners.

“You wound me! I was going to offer to whip up some goulash, but now I don’t think I will since someone thinks she should accuse me of such atrocious crimes.”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Whip up whatever you want, I’m done with kitchen duty, and so is Tyche. Charly’s on her last lap.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Maverick laughed, catching Coffey’s careful eye on his beloved bundle of energy.

Arthur practically leapt to his feet. “That decides it. I am so offended by Sophia’s accusations that I am going to share the kitchen with Miss Chaos Incarnate and leave you all to wonder what wound up in the food.”

Tyche tipped her head back to scowl at him from where she was draped across Antoine’s lap. “If I find a single eyeball…”

Muttering something suspiciously close to “Dammit”, Arthur prowled across the room as though the entire floor wasn’t draped in legs and people.

I opened my mouth to whine about how he could do that, only to be cut off when a piece of pastry was stuffed in my mouth. Grievances forgotten, my eyebrows shot up as I chewed. “Tyche! When did you make donuts!?”

“It may have involved time travel,” she waggled her fingers at me. “But no blood magic or ritual sacrifices, swear.”

I could see Antoine shake his head before responding over his shoulder. “She made them this morning.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Travelling forward through time is still time travel, mon coeur.” He tapped the tip of her nose with one finger, eliciting an expression from her that promised swift and painful retribution.

A soft rustle of fabric caught my attention, and I turned to see a pile of purple and jade-green silk land beside me before a long, dark braid came into view. “The donuts are quite delightful,” Parvati declared as she yanked Xiomara down beside her in a graceless heap. Grabbing a dark brown one from the plate, she popped it in her lover’s mouth just as Xiomara was about to complain. “That one is a Black Forest, I believe. You’ll love it.”

“Careful on those,” Conor warned. “I think they’re half booze.”

“I only soaked the cherries in kirsch,” Tyche corrected. “Not the whole thing.”

“So yeah, half booze,” I corrected.

Giving her most fearsome scowl, Xio snatched the rest of the Black Forest donuts off the plate and balanced them in one hand.

A squeal of laughter interrupted our shenanigans, and we whipped our heads around in time to see Hannah holding a plate of mini-Wellingtons over her head without even looking, while Charly struggled to get up from where she was sprawled across both the other woman’s lap and Coffey’s. Zach stared at Hannah like he just saw his first sunset, and Maverick snorted behind me.

“He is such a goner over her,” I heard him say, followed by a light smack.

“Because I have certainly never seen you look at Conor or Sophia in such a way,” Parvati added lightly. “And obviously not when Conor is baby-talking to the plants around the ship, or when Sophia is so busy working she will eat whatever is handed to her.”

He buried his face in the back of my hair before squeaking. “Nope. Never!”

I twisted around so I could see them both. “Wait. When did this happen?”

“Three times a week, in your office,” Tyche interjected in a bored tone. “And pretty religiously.”

I felt my face heat up. “Does everyone know about this except me.”

Xiomara nodded furiously, cheeks plumped out and a suspicious number of donuts missing from the pile in her hand. Parvati shook her head at the antics and smiled gently. “Someone needs to make sure you eat… He brings you gyoza, and you don’t even notice. It’s quite adorable.”

Conor laughed. “She’s got you there, love.”

Eyes flashed as four heads snapped around to him. “Oh, don’t think you’re off the hook, mister!” Charly scolded at him. “He does the same thing to you. Those little pasties you like so much, with the potato and onion.”

Maverick groaned his embarrassment into my shoulder, while Conor’s smile faltered. “I would remember that,” he insisted.

“Not even once,” Charly confirmed.

Rather than being embarrassed, Conor just laughed again and reached to drag us both over to him. “I don’t know how someone so tall can be so sneaky, but I won’t argue.”

That moment was when Arthur decided to return, a trail of slurps in his wake as he handed out goulash. “No eyeballs,” he sighed dejectedly as he handed one to Tyche.

“You guys are no fun,” Charly muttered as she took her own bowl.

Poor Simon eyed the offering hesitantly. Arthur gently wiggled the bowl at him. “I promise, you’ll like it.”

Carefully, as though it would explode at any moment, Simon took the dish and managed a small bite. After a few seconds - presumably to confirm there was no trick - he chewed and immediately started bolting it down at a rapid pace. “I thought it would be spicier,” he admitted as he snaked a hand out to grab another.

“That would be the paprika. Really red, not really spicy.”

Maverick laughed as he took a bowl, but poked it with his fork before wrinkling his nose. “Sorry, Arthur, not happening.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than Simon’s hand darted out again, eliciting laughter from everyone.

Arthur shrugged, well aware of Maverick’s food aversions by this point. “It’s not for everyone. You keep your tofu, I’ll keep my goulash.”

Not long after that, the last of the food was gone and dishes were cleared. Hot drinks were handed out by Zach and Conor, and then it was finally time to exchange gifts. Baked goods from Tyche made the rounds, along with beautiful accessories from Parvati, carefully curated books from Alistair, plants from Conor and Sam, and more.

At one point, Arthur was staring at his gift from Charly like it would bite him. “It’s… a pen?”

She nodded, producing a small jar of black ink from somewhere. “A fountain pen, with black India ink. I made them both myself.”

Arching an eyebrow, he brought the pen closer to examine the engravings. “An otter… with a sword?”

“With a saber,” she corrected. “I tried to make it look like yours, but do you know how hard you make it to get a good look at that thing!?”

“It’s literally on display in my office when I’m not practicing with it.”

“And how am I supposed to get in there when you aren’t? You booby-trapped the door!”

“Wonder why….” he mused with a small smile. “This is very intricate,” he finally admitted.

“Consider it an apology for the other ones.”

“Oh!” I realized. “Give me just a second, everyone.” Scrambling, and with nowhere near Arthur or Tyche’s grace, I managed to make it to our bedroom to grab an armful of boxes. Once I was back at the doorway, I peeked around the stack and smiled. “These are from Derek, with a little bit of help from Hannah.” Checking names, I distributed the boxes before making my way back to my spot.

“This is… It’s so soft!” Parvati exclaimed. “And the colors are beautiful!”

I smiled as I rubbed the scarf I wore. “He wanted to show his appreciation for how welcome he feels, even if he was overwhelmed at the idea of being here.”

Hannah nodded as she brushed her scarf against her cheek. “We worked on these for months, but I didn’t realize he found time to make one for me… All the colors and patterns are different for each person, by the way. They’re meant to show us how he thinks of us.”

Conor held up the green and orange fabric that his box revealed. “I love it, but I’m confused.”

She rolled her eyes, and tapped her own scarf. “This goldish-brown is my eyes, and this olive green are the clothes I usually wear.”

Coffey’s laughter rang through the room as he unfolded his to see a pattern like Neapolitan ice cream: Rich brown, bright pink, with white swirled throughout. “I think he nailed it.”

Antoine’s head tilted until it almost met his shoulder. “Our eyes… Every single scarf has the color of our eyes in it. That must have been so hard for him to do.” I could see what he meant - Derek did not look people in the eyes, as a rule.

“He wants us to know that he sees us, and that he likes that we see him,” Zach shrugged. When we all stared at him, he just blinked. “What? You don’t work with him as much as I do without figuring those things out.”

Without exception, everyone wrapped their gifts from Derek around themselves before the next set of gifts were handed out. “These are from me,” Arthur explained. “Hopefully I got it right.”

Like Alistair, Arthur had gifted everyone a book, but rather than a book that furthered a current interest, he had sought out historical insights into extremely niche topics for everyone. Some made pretty obvious sense - a book on the historical events leading to and the impacts of the Harlem Renaissance for me, a book on the evolution of law in various cultures for Xiomara - but some were far less obvious.

“A book on Roman law?” Charly asked, confused.

He reached over and tapped on the cover. “Specifically, this is about how much of Roman law was the result of litigation, with some pretty hysterical results. I think you’ll get a huge kick out of it.”

She cracked the book open to a random page and looked at it. “If you weren’t home when you were subpoenaed as a witness, you didn’t have to testify, but if you didn’t the person could stand outside your house and - “ she snorted before continuing in a fit of giggles. “Yell at you… for no more than three…. Three hours a day, three days a week - “ another snort “for up to a year!” She wiped a tear from her eye and surrendered to her giggles. “Oh that’s amazing! Thank you!”

Charly wasn’t the only one laughing. Even Xiomara was snickering. “That is an incredibly specific law.”

“Absurd laws are best laws,” he shrugged.

Eventually, all the gifts were distributed, but nobody was in a rush to leave. Instead, we lounged around, quietly catching up and talking about our plans for the upcoming ‘year’. At some point, Insert Winter Holiday had, unanimously and without fanfare, become the end of the year celebration on the Ark, even as far as the Council made plans. With that in mind, we were taking a chance to celebrate our continued survival for yet another cycle, and tried to look forward with optimism toward the next one.

I just let the feelings sink into me, enjoying the presence of the people who moved into my life. Had I been asked fifteen years ago where I saw myself in the future, ‘on a spaceship, as the last of the human race, about to colonize another world’ would have been nowhere on that list. But here I was, with a larger family than I had ever dreamed.

Despite all that we had been through, I couldn’t wait to see what the future would bring.

(A/N: Keep your eyes out for an announcement on New Year’s Eve!)

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #found family #original science fiction #learning to write #aliens #apocalypse #earth is space australia #learning to live #humans are space fae #humans are awesome #humans are strange #hfy

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woodnymphwitch · 5 years

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Samhain🍂🎃

It feels like just yesterday I was writing my post on Mabon, but Samhain is almost here already! I’ve been having a pretty tough time lately, with quite a lot going on that started around Mabon. I’m excited for Samhain, for new beginnings.

Here is a compilation of info on Samhain from my Book of Shadows!

🍂Date: October 31st, the same day as Halloween! This is the halfway point between the Autumn equinox and the Winter solstice.

🍂Basics: The veil between the spirit world and the physical world is the thinnest on Samhain. In the traditional Wiccan religion, the Goddess is going to the land of the dead, where she will be with the dying God. The dying God represents the Earth during the autumn season, beginning to die off in preparation for the winter. She opens the door to the world of the dead, which is why the veil is the thinnest during this time. Samhain is the third and final harvest festival, signaling the end of the lighter part of the year.

🍂Reflect on: With the thinning of the veil, this is the best time of the year to reflect on ancestry and those who came before you. Give thanks for the sacrifices of your ancestors, and the witches that came before you. The Wheel of the Year is coming to an end. Reflect on the past year and all of the good and bad that has come with it, knowing even the bad parts are important to your growth in the end.

🍂Corresponding herbs and foods: Rosemary for healing, good health, and help with memory. Sage for purification, spirituality, and cleansing. Mugwort for divination and spirit work, insight, and ancestral connection. Apples for protection. If you cut an apple in half, you’ll see 5 seeds symbolizing the protective pentacle. Pumpkins are also used for protection, carve faces into them and place them in front of your house to ward off evil spirits.

🍂What to do:

Visit a graveyard. Honor ancestors, even if they’re not directly related to you. Clean up unattended graves and talk to the people resting there! Leave small offerings to show your appreciation for the people that came before you.

Samhain is the best time for divination, making this a great time for tarot, runes, scrying, and more.

Spend time outside, observe the beauty of the fallen leaves and enjoy the harvest season before it passes!

Celebrate life! Trick or treat with your family, go to a party, enjoy being alive. Honor the dead by living your life to the fullest!

🍂What I’m doing: I don’t really know my plans yet, but I will be spending lots of time with friends and family! I’ll be doing a Samhain ritual for sure, giving thanks for the year and honoring ancestors. Since Samhain falls on Halloween, I’ll be celebrating that as well! I’ll dress up and probably go to a Halloween party. I’ll be celebrating Samhain throughout the week it falls in, just to make sure I can do everything I want to! I’ll definitely visit a graveyard and do lots of divination and spirit work!

Thank you so much for reading! Have a blessed Samhain and October!

Sources: Llewellyn’s Sabbat Essentials: Samhain

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scarletravenswood · 4 years

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Different Ways to Celebrate Samhain || Wiccan vs Celtic

There are many ways to celebrate Samhain and today I’d like to share the similarities & differences between Wiccan celebrations of Samhain and the historic way it would be celebrated among the ancient Celtic Pagans.

Both Wiccans and Celtic Pagans view Samhain as a day to connect with the dead. Some of the ways Wiccans honor those that have passed on is by placing pictures of their deceased family members or ancestors on their altar. Also, Some wiccans also participate in a “dumb supper,” the word dumb meaning silent, not stupid. The “dumb supper” is really just a silent meal where you have a place setting with food for the deceased at your table. The Celtic Pagans did something similar though they provided offerings for both the Aos Sí and the deceased. Aos Sí is an Irish term for the supernatural beings in Irish & Scottish mythology. These supernatural beings are akin to the Fae that appear in Folklore. As Samhain was considered a liminal time where these supernatural beings could enter our world, it was really important to the Celtic Pagans that they provide offerings as a way to placate them. They did this by leaving offerings of food and drink outside their home. As for the souls of the deceased, they would place a plate for them at their table just as modern wiccans do. However, it was definitely not a quiet feast. In fact the Celtic Pagans had multiple loud and rambunctious feats for Samhain. While most Wiccans tend to celebrate Samhain on October 31st, Celtic Pagans celebrated Samhain for about a week. They would begin 3 days before Samhain and end 3 days after. These were big gatherings as this time traditionally marked the end of the season for trade and warfare and it was a time to gather the whole tribe together. We see evidence of this in early Irish literature as these big Samhain gatherings were often used as the setting for the stories. During these big gatherings, there was lots of feasting, drinking, and contests. One of the most popular contests involved horse racing. In a previous video about Lughnasadh traditions, I mentioned how athletic events & competition were key aspects of the celebration so it’s interesting to see that that’s true for Samhain as well. To me this emphasis on sport, competition and physical fitness is one of the bigger differences you’ll find between Wiccan and historic Celtic Pagan celebrations.

Many Wiccans tend to celebrate Samhain either alone or with a small coven, but for the Celtic Pagans this holiday was really about celebrating together as a large community. Probably the most important feature of a Celtic Pagan Samhain is a community bonfire and while some wiccans may do a bonfire for Samhain, it’s definitely not a common feature I've seen in most modern Wiccan Samhain celebrations. Bonfires were an essential part of Celtic Pagan Samhain celebrations. Usually these fires were lit by the Druids and then sacrifices for the Gods were thrown into the fire. Also, all other fires in the community would be extinguished and then re-lit from this sacred community fire. Sometimes, two bonfires would be lit next to each other and then the people, and potentially also their livestock, would walk between the two fires as part of a cleansing ritual. One of the popular Samhain activities for both Wiccans and Celtic Pagans is divination. Usually wiccans do divination on Samhain with a scrying mirror, tarot cards, or maybe runes. The Celtic Pagans also did divination, though it mostly centered around the bonfire. There’s a spooky Celtic tradition where people would gather a stone and place their stone in a ring around a bonfire. Then everyone would run and dance around the bonfire and the next morning they would check the stones. If a stone was missing or moved it was said that that person would die in the upcoming year. Apples and hazelnuts were also traditionally used for divination games on Samhain though mostly these divination methods were done by girls hoping to learn who their future spouse would be. There are many more both Wiccan and Celtic Pagan traditions for Samhain and I definitely encourage you to do some more research so you can decide which traditions would best fit within your own Samhain celebration. With this post, I’m not trying to say that one system, Wiccan or Celtic Pagan is better than the other. Though I wanted to share with you these ancient Celtic Pagan traditions because books and information on them is often much harder to find than information on Wiccan celebrations. There are tons of books and blog posts out there that provide spells, rituals, and crafts on how to celebrate a Wiccan Samhain. In fact, I’ve personally made a lot of videos about how to celebrate a Wiccan Samhain already. The trickier question for me is how can we celebrate a Samhain in a way that’s more attuned to how the Celtic Pagans celebrated it. It’s kind of a difficult situation because most Celtic Pagan celebrations were about coming together as a community. The more I’ve learned about historic Pagan traditions the more I’ve realized how important it is to build a strong community not just online but in person as well. Definitely not this year but maybe in the years to come I really hope to be able to host a traditional Celtic Pagan Samhain celebration. This would be an event where we could all come together for a weekend, have a big nighttime Samhain bonfire and enjoy feasting, drinking, and spending time together. And speaking of building community, one of the new things I’ll be doing is sending out hand written letters to some of my Patrons for each sabbat. I know it’s kind of old school, but I think it would be really fun to become penpals with some of you guys. So, if you’re interested in becoming Penpals with me, you can join my Patreon here. Thanks so much for reading this post. It’s been so wonderful to see our community grow so quickly!

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#samhain #wicca #wiccan #pagan #paganism #witchblr #halloween #celtic #celtic mythology #celtic paganism #baby witch #occult #Wheel of the Year

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snusbandxknifewife · 4 years

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Sticky Ficky 8

Hello everyone! Since Jurdannet Christmas in July is coming up, I thought I’d celebrate a lil family tradition. In my family, the 23rd of December is Elf Night. Basically, if you’re good, the elves will leave you one gift to occupy your time until Christmas. As it is now July 23rd, that makes this Elf Night in July, and I believe that’s as good an excuse as any for some Sticky Ficky!

So awhile back @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 helped me out with something and I wrote a pillow for hc for her in return and I thought at the time “this has Sticky Ficky potential” so we will now take a break from our scheduled worm chapter to have pillow fort Sticky Ficky! Hope you enjoy!

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Wssssh

THUNK

Jude Duarte Greenbriar, Hugh Queen of Elfhame and wife to Cardan Greenbriar, dove to the side at the very last moment, just barely avoiding the glow-in-the-dark suction cup dart as it flew past her head, sticking comically to the groin of a satyr statue in the office she shared with her husband.

She swerved onto one knee, taking aim directly at Cardan’s pretty black eyes and letting fly a dart of her own, this one pink and with a soft tip. Like most things in her life, she was right on target, her timing impeccable and her aim unfailing.

Why Cardan insisted on doing this when he was so obviously set up to fail always confused her, but she was never one to back away from a surefire victory.

Using the disorientation caused by her near-perfect hit, Jude scrambled to her feet and careened out the office door; headed for their destroyed sitting room. She was out of bullets and needed to restock. Luckily, she knew the sofa fort like the back of her hand, and she had hidden an extra gun in the hollow of the underside of a sofa cushion for just this moment.

But she always underestimated just how fast her husband could move. Cardan was a man well practiced in getting others to forget he could be lethal. Hidden behind the near-constant dullness of intoxication and the ever-present serving of indifference, Cardan always payed attention. He was a dangerously advanced student of the Court of Shadows, and he’d been raised in an insanely cutthroat royal family.

She needed to stop forgetting that.

“Jude, villain and darling,” he purred in her ear as he captured her by the waist, hauling her up over his shoulder and back away from her stash. “Leaving so soon? I was having so much fun.”

“Let go of me!” Jude squealed, going for threatening as she wiggled like a petulant puppy in his arms but unable to hide the mirth in her voice. “I said unhand me!”

Beneath her stomach she felt him chuckle as he ignored her, spinning towards their bedroom and keeping one hand firmly on her ass to make sure she didn’t successfully squirm away.

If their sitting room was a disaster, their bedroom was a war zone. The mattress was completely off the bed frame, angled like a lean-to and hiding a pile of pillows for ample cuddling. The vanity that Cardan used to use as a place to hold his wine was in the middle of the room, hooked to other pieces of furniture by fine silken sheets as they spread across the chamber.

Forts had become a topic of conversation after Jude drunkenly admitted to loving them in childhood. One night, as she and Cardan were deep in their drink and basking in one another’s naked company, she’d gotten to talking about how little Jude had always loved Friday nights.

Friday nights meant no school the next day, no sports and no homework for the following week. Friday nights meant staying up and gorging on microwaved fish sticks with a dessert of cosmic brownies. Friday nights meant reruns of Scooby Doo and pajama parties with her whole family.

Most importantly, Friday nights meant pillow fights and forts in the living room.

Forts in the living room meant family sleepovers in the living room.

Family sleepovers meant she had her parents with her, meant she was safe, that she was nothing more than a child.

A child with no knowledge of real war, of Faerie, of bloodshed and suffering and sacrifice.

Cardan had confessed to her, after she’d described her coveted purple unicorn pajama pants and her favorite mortal soda, that he’d quite like to know what it was like to have a pillow fight and a fort in one’s living room. He hadn’t expected her to follow through. Hell, he hadn’t even expected her to remember. But then, after nearly a week had gone by and he was aching after an infuriating meeting and a ridiculous revel, he’d returned to their chambers to find the sitting room turned over and a pile of sheets by the door.

That night was the first of what would become their weekly ritual. What began as a little fort in the sitting room turned into nerf gun fights and feasting on only the most mediocre of mortal cuisine, sheets hanging from every viable surface in the royal apartments and Homeric descriptions of cartoons from Jude’s childhood, relaxing in one another’s embrace and having a little fun—between, below, and above the sheets.

It seemed like every day they’d find some memento of their Friday nights, a sticky hand that Cardan had used to smack Jude’s ass, a pillow from their bed in their bathtub, or—Cardan’s favorite—Jude’s stash of good wine hidden in the skirts of the dress she was due to wear the following day. Each little thing made them grin and made their hearts go weak with love for their partner.

And that’s what it was, love.

After all this time, after all the teasing in school and the suffering so early in Cardan’s reign, after Madoc and the Undersea and exile, they loved each other. It surprised Jude every day to realize it, but she couldn’t deny it was there. No one who saw the way the king looked at the queen could deny it was there.

Cardan shocked Jude back to reality by none-too-gently throwing her atop a pile of pillow. When she gave him an offended gasp, he turned his nose high and said: “I have no sympathy for prisoners.”

“Am I a prisoner now?” Jude asked, a sly smile overtaking her face as she watched her husband stalk around the room like the cat he just barely wasn’t. Sure, she didn’t have a functional weapon and she was pretty winded from the fall, but she knew she could take him without too much trouble.

He stopped cold, his back turning rigid as he stared at something she couldn’t see. Jude felt her stomach clench and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d said something wrong. She and Cardan had gotten a lot better at communication over the years, but they still had their moments.

Unable to convince herself to open her mouth to ask what was wrong, she watched in horrified silence as her husband flexed his hands once, twice, three times.

Then, when he turned to face her, something had changed in his eyes.

“Of course you are,” he spit at her with a vitriol he hadn’t used in years. “Isn’t that what you’ve always been? All you’re good at being?”

Her brow furrowed and she felt a furious blush rising to her cheeks, but as her husband fully turned towards her, his boots angled directly at her outstretched legs and his face dark in a way she didn’t like to remember, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him what he was talking about.

Jude was unable to verbally defend herself as he took a step towards her. In fact, she was unable to do anything but scramble awkwardly onto her hands and feet.

“Poor little Duarte, a human child stolen away to Faerie,” he hissed at her, advancing. Jude felt a lump in her throat that she was unable to swallow around and she began to crab-walk backwards as fast as she could. Still, he gained on her.

She successfully dislodged herself from the pile of pillows, the cold stone floor biting into her hands as she continued to move away from her husband. He seemed so angry, so hateful where he’d once been so loving.

“Cardan—“

“Shut your filthy human mouth!” Cardan shouted, so suddenly and so loudly that she couldn’t help but flinch. And then she was against a wall with no way out and he was only fifteen feet from her.

Jude was looking for something, anything to defend herself. She tried to reassure herself that she was the better fighter, that she was protected against geases and that she had the land on her side just as much as he did, but, in the face of that evil look in his eyes, it did nothing to calm her.

“Jude fucking Duarte, the scum of the gentry,” he spit as he tilted his head, inspecting her the same way a troubled child would inspect a beautiful butterfly right before they ripped the poor thing’s wings off. “Did you honestly think you’d ever be anything more than a prisoner?”

She blanched and he was ten feet away.

“Did you think you’d ever stand a chance against a people so undeniably better than you?”

A cold tear dripped down her cheek and he was five feet away.

“Did you think anyone, much less someone like me, could ever love the likes of you?”

He gripped her by the throat and yanked her off her feet, slamming her against the unforgiving stone wall and glaring into her eyes, his nose a hair’s breadth away.

“Jude Duarte, Seneschal to the High King of Elfhame. Jude Duarte, Hugh Queen of Elfhame,” he sneered in a voice so high-pitched that it was obviously making fun of her. “Did you think it ever mattered? Did you honestly believe that those titles made you safe?”

She opened her mouth to try to speak, but she couldn’t force any air out, not with how his long, delicate fingers were so easily crushing her windpipe.

“You were a prisoner to mortality in your childhood,” he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “and they you were a prisoner of Faerie in your adolescence.”

Her vision blackened around the edges as her mind reached weakly for a memory of when Cardan held her sweetly. She couldn’t quite grasp one.

“You willingly enslaved yourself to my brother and then you went and made yourself into my prisoner when you engineered my rule,” he laughed, pulling away just enough for her to see his cold eyes once more. “Surely you knew that’s all you were? Bound to my word in public and stuck cleaning up all my messes. God, you make a good little servant.”

She tried to kick at him, but her whole body felt week and she wasn’t able to bring her leg up. Panicked, she looked down to where her hands clawed at his and she found that her nails were broken and bloodied, the beds caked with sea salt.

“You were a prisoner beneath the waves.”

Seaweed rose from the floor and wrapped around her ankles, pulling down like it was trying to pull her under the water once more.

“You were a prisoner, bound to the bidding of Balekin.”

She felt the ghost of his lips against hers and she gagged, gasping for air and unable to get any.

“A prisoner to your own desires,” he smirked. “That’s why you stupidly chose my hand over my control.”

She couldn’t get a word in edgewise, couldn’t correct him, couldn’t even really remember why she’d done it. Was he right?

“And now you’re once again locked in the world of the mortals, a prisoner in your little bedroom cell,” he sneered at her. “It’s where you belong, don’t you agree? I’m sure all of Faerie does.”

Memories of exile came flooding back to her. She could see, almost as if she were a fly on the wall, a disturbingly sick Jude. Clothes were falling off her and her normally tanned skin was deathly pale, the only real structure in her life coming from the rat’s nest that has cemented itself in her hair.

“Let me tell you a secret, Jude,” he leans back in, lips ghosting against her ear. “That’s where you’ll stay. In that tiny room in that hellish world, wasting away to nothing and waiting for your inevitable death. You’ll go quietly, without a fight and with no one to remember you. Do you know why, Jude?”

Her mouth formed around his name.

Cardan

But she couldn’t say it.

“I’ll tell you why,” he continued, smirk evident in his icy voice. “It’s because, above all else, you are a prisoner to your own fear. You will always be your own jail cell.”

Tears gushed down her face and she wanted to beg him to stop saying such hurtful things. But she couldn’t, because when Cardan next pulled away, it wasn’t Cardan at all.

One cold, rotted hand gripped her by the throat as she stared in horror at the decaying body of Balekin Greenbriar, fresh blood still oozing from the fatal wound she’d inflicted.

She woke screaming.

Jude Duarte, exiled High Queen of Elfhame, woke screaming.

She didn’t know the day or the time, where she was or why she was there, all she knew is that she could still feel the cold hand of death wrapped around her throat.

Cardan wasn’t there, he’d never been there. They’d never built forts or had pillow fights and they likely never would.

She was blind to the world as she heaved herself out of bed, flying towards the shower to try and wash the stench of death off her skin. She didn’t notice that Vivienne was awake, Oak sitting next to her at the kitchen bar.

The siblings shared a horrified look and Vivi didn’t give herself the time to hesitate. She picked up her phone, dialed, and prayed.

It rang three times.

“Listen, Vivi, I really don’t have the time for th—“

“It’s not about us, Heather,” Vivi rushed to say, taking the sudden silence on the other end as a sign to continue. “It’s Jude. Please, I need your help with Jude.”

More silence, and then:

“I’ll be right over.”

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What? I didn’t say it would be fluffy pillow fort Sticky Ficky,,,,,all aboard the angst train lol

Hope y’all don’t hate me too much I promise I will have more funny/stupid Sticky Ficky but I gotta get this exile angst in!

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @courtofjurdan @clockworkgraystairs

#tfota #jurdan #jude duarte #tfota fic #cardan greenbriar #sticky ficky #the great sticky hand war #tyrannosaurus lex writes #sticky ficky make it angsty #i PROMISE worms next chapter

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

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Title: Icarus, and the Fire

Author: @thatsrightdollface

For: @bebexox4

Pairings/Characters: Hajime Hinata/Nagito Komaeda. Other characters mentioned.

Rating/Warnings: T.Self-deprecating/self-destructive thoughts. Religious and folklore-based imagery. Mentions of ritual sacrifice. Non-graphic descriptions of canon-typical violence.

Prompt: Chapter 5 Angst with happy post game ending (I hate sad endings :( ) Arguably, the second part of this could be used for your third prompt, “Post-game romantic confessions under moonlight,” too! To a degree.

Author’s notes: Hello – I really hope you enjoy this gift!!! It’s the second prompt of two you can expect for this season’s Komahina Secret Exchange. I hope you’re having a great day and doing as well as possible. Thank you, again!!!

Just before Nagito Komaeda died, the fire reaching for him seemed ruinously golden, bright and hot as the sun, and he heard Hajime Hinata’s voice from the door of the plushie factory. Of course his killing game classmates would get the fire extinguisher grenades before the flames properly ate at Nagito’s skin, catching on the ragged edges of his coat. Nibbling at his hair. Of course. The fire wasn’t what was supposed to kill him, technically, according to the plan he’d dreamt up like a prayer, falling to his dirty knees at Hope’s feet. This was an offering.

Nagito knew he was going to die here, however it happened, and he only had a few breaths left. They were smothered, horrible breaths, too, and the world smelled like so much burning fabric. Nagito’s mind was smoke and pain, pain like static, straining to hear Hajime’s voice before the end. Why Hajime Hinata? He was the enemy; he was a Remnant of Despair; he was the only one of Nagito’s killing game classmates he absolutely knew he couldn’t trust. Hajime had been the sole survivor when the entire talentless Hope’s Peak Academy Reserve Course was lost… a different ritual offering, you know, but this time to the stiletto-heeled, snickering Goddess of Despair. Junko Enoshima. Nagito saw Hope as something greater than all things… something to make this whole world worth it… and he was offering himself to Hope, just now. This was different. This was what he’d decided — no, what he knew — had to be done.

It was terrible luck to be caught in Junko Enoshima’s killing game… truly, just awful. But it was an amazing opportunity, too. From despair came Hope, after all — that’s what Nagito had been preaching to everybody here on Jabberwock Island, and that’s what he had to believe with his whole soul or else how could he have ever made it this far? Hah. It was simple, really. One of Nagito’s classmates was a member of the Future Foundation, even if they didn’t realize it yet, and only that one person among them all hadn’t become one of Junko Enoshima’s monsters. And so, you see? It was wonderful luck, now, that Nagito could save that single near-holy classmate, even if it meant he and everything else on this island went up in flames. Hajime Hinata, too. Even if it meant this might be one of the last times Hajime spoke outside of a class trial — with Nagito straining to listen, even if he willed himself not to, even if he knew he shouldn’t want to hear.

Hajime’s laughter, self-conscious chuckles in the back of his throat. Hajime’s indignant, baffled exclamations, trying to keep the peace among their group… Hajime’s earnest frustration, struggling to understand Nagito even when everyone else they knew here had given up. Hajime’s voice could get so stumbling and soft, when he and Nagito were reading together on the beach; Hajime had ridden the island’s rollercoaster with some of their classmates a while back, and Nagito had been able to pick his whooping scream out from everybody else’s. He’d listened for it, then, too.

It had been wonderful luck to meet Hajime Hinata. Nagito would have told you that from the first time they spoke. Hajime was earnest and warm, and it had been easy to walk beside him. They could slide together almost like friends, at first, before the killing game really got going. Unspeakable, wasn’t it, that someone would actually want a friend like Nagito Komaeda? And yet, it had been true: Hajime’s eyes had relaxed a little, finding him, and Nagito had felt his lips curl up into a soft smile even when he had no right to it.

It didn’t really feel like that long ago, with Hajime shaking even more sand out of his shoes and Nagito frantically scanning his mind for interesting things they could talk about. Sometimes Nagito would ramble on sing-song tangents for way longer than he’d meant to, and he truly believed Hajime tried to hear every word. That was a new feeling. There was no one else Nagito would have wanted squeezing his hand as he lay limp in yet another hospital bed, sick with the killing game’s Despair Disease. Nagito’s hand would have been sweat-sticky and feverish, but maybe if he’d understood… maybe if he’d stayed… Hajime wouldn’t have minded. He could’ve washed his own hands afterwards, even, and then just sat on a chair by Nagito’s bed if he was alright with that. Would he have been alright with that?

Things had changed, even before Nagito reached the Final Death Room and the wicked truths inside. Who Hajime was. The Hope’s Peak Reserve Course. All that. Hajime’s eyes were tired and beseeching, watching Nagito like he might be important to him, sure, but also like he might slide a knife out of his sleeve at any second. They hadn’t understood each other yet, but even so it had been one of Nagito’s luckiest moments, falling into step beside Hajime Hinata. And so, logically, it had been one of Nagito’s unluckiest moments when he realized Hajime wasn’t the one he would have to save.

Hajime had tried to confess to the “crime” of belonging to the Future Foundation, because he thought maybe it would save their friends’ lives. Nagito had said he wished he could believe him, and that thought was grabbing at him, even now, hot against his skin as the flames. What if Hajime could be kept safe? What if Hajime could stand for Hope, too, and they might both have statues set up somewhere grand, reborn in beatific metals? Reborn from fire. But of course, Nagito’s luck wouldn’t let him stay close to someone like Hajime, someone who made him feel solid and nearly steady inside. Fortune and tragedy were two sides of the same coin: Nagito had always known that. He was the Ultimate Lucky Student, after all, and his luck was ridiculous. His luck was easy to see as something mythic, from time to time, when it made him feel as helpless as he felt just now.

Let’s say Nagito’s luck was like the story of Icarus, this time. Whenever he got too happy — whenever he wandered endlessly high, too close to the sun — of course his wax wings would melt, next, and he could do nothing but fall.

Nagito had let himself fall in love with the hope sleeping inside Hajime Hinata, and now he would die with ash in his hair, cheeks sticky with tears. Of course he’d taped over his mouth so no one could hear him scream when it happened. Whatever Nagito’s last words would have been, no one could hear them. If Hajime was the sun — just as good luck was the sun, shall we say? — Nagito had wax dripping down his back in oily bubbling rivers, now. He should have known… no, he had always known… this was the most he could have hoped for. Nagito was a stepping stone for Hope. Wasn’t that enough?

And so why was he listening for Hajime Hinata’s voice, up until the end of things, even as he clutched that final-death spear of his so tight, even as he reminded himself this would all be worth it soon? Alright then. And so what if he was? What next? Maybe the Ultimate Lucky Student was like Icarus again, enjoying the sunlight on his skin even once the fall had already begun, and the world below was hurtling closer all the time.

***

Later.

Much later.

Nagito Komaeda was sitting by a bonfire, and tasting smoke in the air again. Everything was different, this time, of course. The fire was crackling golden, true, but it was cozy in the dark of a starstruck Jabberwock Island night, and if Nagito fell back there was someone close enough to catch him. No killing game plots, no burning plushie factory curtains. Hajime Hinata was near enough that Nagito could feel the sand rustle beneath them both as he shifted, gesturing with his hands as he spoke to their classmates. No, not their classmates — they were the former Remnants of Despair, all of them left behind, and they hadn’t been a “class” in a long time. Their “friends,” then? Nagito was huddled in close, part of the circle, and when he’d hung back at the edge of things too long it had been Hajime who pulled him in. Hajime, with a soft hand on his back. Hajime, who murmured, “Sit by me?” into the curve of Nagito’s cheek, breath against his neck.

And so Nagito was here, watching the other former Remnants of Despair burn campfire wood by the edge of the sea. The sparks drifting over that dark water reminded him of faraway fireworks, and… despite everything that had happened… it did feel like they should be celebrating. Nagito and his teammates had their minds back, and they belonged to each other so much more completely than they had ever belonged to despair. (Or, so Hajime had told them during one of those rallying pep talks of his — he’d been looking straight into Nagito’s eyes as he said that part, and Nagito had swallowed hard. Aching to believe him.)

The Remnants of Despair had helped the Future Foundation put an end to a despair-inducing mind control video not too long ago, and then they’d come back here, to where their second chances began. It had all been so much to wrap their heads around… the killing game being a simulation, for one, and all of them being criminals the Ultimate Hope was defying his higher-ups to rehabilitate. The only Future Foundation member hidden among them had been an AI, after all, a shadow of their friend who had died at despair’s hand so long ago. But the Ultimate Hope… Makoto Naegi… believed in all of them, and Nagito had been able to shake his hand, once. It had been broad and warm, so different than Nagito’s own pale spindly fingers, crisscrossed with scars his relentless luck left behind.

The Ultimate Hope had asked why Nagito’s hand was so sticky; the Ultimate Hope had fought to keep the people Nagito tried to execute for Hope’s sake kicking around in the world. The Ultimate Hope shared his title with Hajime Hinata, now, some people said. That had been a lot to try and comprehend, too… that Hajime, reinvented with every talent under the sun, godlike and impossible, could still be so much like he was before. It was oddly comforting, smelling his cheap shampoo, imagining reaching out to play with his spiky hair. They could sit in silence, together, and Nagito could almost forget there was no reason Hajime should ever want to spend time with him. It had been Hajime who’d fought to piece Nagito’s brain back together after the simulation… it had been Hajime who refused to leave him behind, and built him a mechanical arm to replace the one that was… ah… gone, now. Looking at Hajime for too long was like staring into the sun, nowadays: it burned Nagito’s eyes worse than the salt wind over the ocean. But that mostly meant Nagito had something to say to him… that mostly meant Nagito might cry, if he thought too hard about what it would have been like if his plan had gone exactly as he thought it needed to go.

“I’m glad you aren’t dead, Hajime Hinata,” might have been a good place to start. “Seeing you work for Hope’s sake is amazing, but even if you weren’t — even if you were still a talentless nobody from the Reserve Course — I’m so glad I was wrong and you aren’t dead.”

It could’ve been Hajime already knew those words were waiting on the tip of Nagito’s tongue. He kept offering his hand, after all, and now… sitting by a bonfire on Jabberwock Island, listening to his friends work through where they’d have to go next… he rubbed Nagito’s shoulder a bit and offered him an exhausted, resolute smile. They couldn’t stay here long, given that it was only a matter of time before people tracked their boat — given that it was only a matter of time before they were caught, and maybe locked away, maybe killed. Hajime had vowed to lead the Remnants of Despair around the world, spurring society on towards Hope. They needed a battle strategy, for something like that. They needed outrageous, harebrained schemes, kinda like the ones Nagito had come up with during the killing game. They were going to make something near-holy of themselves yet.

But when Hajime grinned at him, Nagito leaned in closer… not for Hope’s sake at all, really. Nagito imagined Icarus again, flying towards the sun even though he knew what could happen. Nagito dangled on the brink of happiness, shuffling his feet against the edge of the cliff and deciding to let himself feel. He offered Hajime his own hand, this time, and their fingers twined together against the sand. Palm trees swayed in a gentle wind; the Ultimate Musician interrupted this planning session to try and start up a campfire sing-along.

“You should be careful, you know,” Nagito whispered, his voice starting up even though he tried to hold it back. Even though it would ruin this moment, under so many stars, with salty wind in his hair and firelight catching in Hajime’s mismatched eyes. Red and green, Ultimate Hope and useless Reserve Course student. “If you let me like you too much, it’ll be dangerous. My luck… you know who I am, Hajime.”

You know what I almost did to you… what I was willing to do to everyone. You know, you know, you know. And so why?

Hajime sighed. He reached out so slowly and brushed a little sand off Nagito’s cheek, there where all the rest of their classmates… friends… could see them, if they managed to glance away from this sing-along train wreck long enough. “Yeah, I know who you are,” Hajime said. And that was all. He said it in the same sort of voice someone else might have said, “I love you,” Nagito thought.

Maybe it was Hajime who was Icarus after all, in this scenario — maybe they flew towards each other, and if they fell together it would be enough to break the fall. Soft wax wings and golden light. Sand and ocean and a million places left to go.

Hajime didn’t pull his hand away, not for a while. He explained that his fingers had fallen asleep, when he finally did.

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